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TRAMPING    THROUGH 

MEXICO,  GUATEMALA 

AND  HONDURAS 


A  street  of  Puebla,  Mexico,  and  the  Soledad  Church 


TRAMPING  THROUGH 

MEXICO,   GUATEMALA 

AND  HONDURAS 


Being  the  Random  Notes 
of  an  Incurable  Vagabond 


BY 

HARRY  A.   FRANCK 

AcTHOR  OK  "A  Vagabond  Jolrnf.v  Aroc.vd 
THE  World,"  "Zone  Policeman 

88,"   ETC. 


ILLUSTRATED  WITH  PHOTOGRAPHS 
BY  THE  AUTHOR 


NEW  YORK 

THE  CENTURY  CO. 

1916 


Copyright,  1916,  by 
The  Centuby  Co. 

Published,  August,  1916 


TO 
THE  MEXICAN  PEON 

WITH 

SINCEREST  WISHES 

FOR  HIS 

ULTIMATE  EMANCIPATION 


626451 


FOREWORD 

This  simple  story  of  a  journey  southward  grew  up 
of  itself.  Planning  a  comprehensive  exploration  of 
South  America,  I  concluded  to  reach  that  continent 
by  some  less  monotonous  route  than  the  steamship's 
track;  and  herewith  is  presented  the  unadorned  nar- 
rative of  what  I  saw  on  the  way, —  the  day-by-day 
experiences  in  rambling  over  bad  roads  and  into 
worse  lodging-places  that  infallibly  befall  all  who 
venture  afield  south  of  the  Rio  Grande.  The  present 
account  joins  up  with  that  of  five  months  on  the 
Canal  Zone,  already  published,  clearing  the  stage  for 
a  larger  forthcoming  volume  on  South  America  giv- 
ing the  concrete  results  of  four  unbroken  years  of 
Latin-American  travel. 

Harry  A.  Franck. 

New  York,  May,  191^ 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS 


CHAPTEE 

I    INTO  THE  COOLER  SOUTH 


II  TRAMPING  THE  BYWAYS       .     > 

III  IN  A  MEXICAN  MINE    .... 

IV  ROUND  ABOUT  LAKE  CHAP ALA 
V  ON  THE  TRAIL  IN  MICHOACAN 

VI  TENOCHTITLAN  OF  TO-DAY  .     . 

VII  TROPICAL  MEXICO 

VIII  HURRYING  THROUGH  GUATEMALA 

IX  THE  UPS  AND  DOWNS  OF  HONDURAS 

X  THE   CITY  OF   THE  SILVER   HILLS    . 


?AGE 

3 
34, 

62 
117 
151 
194 

2-25 
253 
284, 
357 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

A  street  of  Puebia,  Mexico,  and  the  Soledad  Church  Frontispiece 

The    first    glimpse    of    Mexico.     Looking    across    the    Rio 

Grande    at    Laredo 5 

A  corner  of  Monterey  from  my  hotel  window  ....  5 

A  peon  restaurant  in  the  market-place  of  San  Luis  Potosi  11 

A  market  woman  of  San  Luis  Potosi 11 

Some  sold  potatoes  no  larger  than  nuts 18 

A  policeman  and  an  arriero 18 

The    former    home,    in    Dolores    Hidalgo,    of   the    Mexican 

"Father  of  his  Country" 28 

Rancho  del  Capulin,  where  I  ended  the  first  day  of  tramp- 
ing in  Mexico 28 

View  of  the  city  of  Guanajuato 37 

Fellow-roadsters   in   Mexico 48 

Some  of  the  pigeon-holes  of  Guanajuato's  cemetery   .     .  48 

A  pulque  street-stand  and  one  of  its  clients 57 

Prisoners  washing  in  the  patio  of  the  former  "Alondiga"  57 

Drilling  with  compressed-air  drills  in  a  mine  "  heading "  .  68 

As  each  car  passed  I  snatched  a  sample  of  its  ore   .     .  68 

Working  a  "heading"  by  hand 73 

Peon  miners  being  searched   for  stolen  ore  as  they  leave 

the   mine 79 

Bricks  of  gold  and   silver  ready  for  shipment.     Each  is 

worth    something   like    $1230 79 

In  a   natural  amphitheater  of  Guanajuato  the  American 
miners  of  the  region  gather  on  Sundays  for  a  game  of 

baseball 90 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

Some  of  the  peons  under  my  charge  about  to  leave  the  mine    90 

The  easiest  way  to  carry  a  knapsack  —  on  a  peon's  back    .     95 

The  ore  thieves  of  Peregrina  being  led  away  to  prison  .     .     95 

One  of  Mexico's  countless  "armies" 101 

Vendors  of  strawberries  at  the  station  of  Irapuato  .     .     .  101 

The  wall  of  Guadalajara  penitentiary  against  which  pris- 
oners are  shot 112 

The  liver-shaking  stagecoach  from  Atequisa  to  Chapala      .  112 

Lake  Chapala  from  the  estate  of  Ribero  Castellanos  .     .  121 

The  head  farmer  of  the  estate  under  an  aged  fig-tree  .     .  121 

A  Mexican  village 132 

Making  glazed  floor  tiles  on  a  Mexican  estate  ....  141 

Vast  seas  of  Indian  corn  stretch  to  pine-clad  hills,  while 
around  them  are  guard-shacks  at  frequent  intervals  .     .  141 

Interior  of  a  Mexican  hut  at  cooking  time 152 

Fall  plowing  near  Patzcuaro 161 

Modern   transportation    along   the    ancient   highway    from 
Tzintzuntzan,  the  former  Tarascan  capital  .     ...    ..     .     .161 

In  the  church  of  ancient  Tzintzuntzan  is  a  "  Descent  from 
the  Cross"  ascribed  to  Titian 172 

Indians  waiting  outside  the  door  of  the  priest's  house  in 
Tzintzuntzan 173 

A  corner  of  Morelia,  capital  of  Michoacian,  and  its  an- 
cient   aqueduct    ' .  - 181 

The  spot  and  hour  in  which  Maximilian  was  shot,  with  the 
chapel  since  erected  by  Austria 181 

The  market  of  Tlaxcala,  the  ancient  inhabitants  of  which 
aided  Cortez  in  the  conquest  of  Mexico 192 

A  rural  of  the  state  of  Tlaxcala  on  guard  before  a  bar- 
racks   192 

A  part  of  Puebla,  looking  toward  the  peak  of  Orizaba  .     .  201 

Popocatepetl  and  the  artificial  hill  of  Cholula  on  which  the 
Aztecs  had  a  famous  temple,  overthrown  by  Cortez  .     .  201 

A  typical  Mexican  of  the  lowlands  of  Tehuantepec  .     .     .  212 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

A  typical  Mexican  boy  of  the  highlands 212 

Looking  down  on  Maltrata  as  the  train  begins  its  descent  .  217 

A  residence  of  the  Isthmus  of  Tehuantepec 217 

On  the  banks  of  the  Coatzacoalcos,  Isthmus  of  Tehuantepec  223 

Women  of  Tehuantepec  in  the  market-place 234 

On  the  hillside  above  Tehuantepec  are  dwellings  partly  dug 
out  of  the  cliffs 234 

A  rear-view  of  the  remarkable  head-dress  of  the  women  of 
Tehuantepec,  and  one  of  their  decorated  bowls       .     .     .  239 

A  woman  of  northern  Guatemala 239 

A  station  of  the  "  Pan-American "  south  of  Tehuantepec  245 

An  Indian  boy  of  Guatemala  on  his  way  home  from  market  245 

Three  "  gringoes "  on  the  tramp  from  the  Mexican  bound- 
ary to  the  railway  of  Guatemala 256 

Inside  the  race-track  at  Guatemala  City  is  a  relief  map 
of  the  entire   country 256 

One  of  the  jungle-hidden  ruins  of  Quiragud 261 

The  last  house  in  Guatemala,  near  the  boundary  of  Hon- 
duras       261 

A  woman  shelling  corn  for  my  first  meal  in  Honduras  .     .  267 

A  vista  of  Honduras  from  a  hillside,  to  which  I  climbed 
after  losing  the  trail 267 

A  resident  of  Santa  Rosa,  victim  of  the  hook-worm  .     .     .  278 

The  chief  monument  of  the  ruins  of  Copan 278 

I  topped  a  ridge  and  caught  sight  at  last  of  Santa  Rosa, 
first  town  of  any  size  in  Honduras 287 

Soldiers  of  Santa  Rosa  eating  in  the  market-place  .     .     .  287 

Christmas  dinner  on  the  road  in  Honduras 294 

Several    times    I    met   the    families   of   soldiers   tramping 
northward  with  all  their  possessions 294 

A  fellow-roadster  behind  one  of  my  cigars 300 

An  arriero  carrying  a  bundle  of  Santa  Rosa  cigars  on  his 
own  back  as  he  drivcis  his  similarly  laden  animals     .     .  300 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

The  great  militarj'   force  of  Esperanza  compelled  to  draw 
up  and  face  ray  camera 305 

The  prisoners  in  their  chains  form  an  interested  audience 
across  the  street 305 

Honduras,  the  Land  of  Great  Depths 311 

A  corner  of  Tegucigalpa 317 

The  "  West  Pointers "  of  Honduras  in  their  barracks,  a 
part  of  the  national  palace 317 

View  of  Tegucigalpa  from  the  top  of  Picacho   ....  324 

Repairing  the  highway  from  Tegucigalpa  to  the  Coast  .      .  324 

A  family  of  Honduras 327 

Approaching  Sabana  Grande,  the  first  night's  stop  on  the 
tramp   to  the   coast 327 

A  beef  just  butchered  and  hiing  out  in  the  sun  ....  334 

A  dwelling  on  the  hot  lands  of  the  Coast,  and  its  scantily 
clad    inhabitants 334 

Along  the  Pasoreal  River 337 

The  mozo  pauses  for  a  drink  on  the  trail 348 

One  way   of  transporting  merchandise   from  the  coast  to 
Tegucigalpa 348 

The  other  way  of  bringing  goods  up  to  the  capital  .     .     .  353 

The  garrison  of  Amapala 353 

Marooned  "  gringoes  "  waiting  with  what  patience  possible 
at  the  "  Hotel  Morazan,"  Amapala 359 

Unloading  cattle  in  the  harbor  of  Amapala 359 

The  steamer  arrives  at  last  that  is  to  carry  us  south  to 
Panama 373 

We  lose  no  time  in  being  rowed  out  to  her 373 


MAP 
The  Author's  Itinerary Facing  'page    32 


TRAMPING  THROUGH 

MEXICO,  GUATEMALA 

AND  HONDURAS 


TRAMPING   THROUGH 

MEXICO,  GUATEMALA 

AND  HONDURAS 

CHAPTER  I 

INTO    THE    COOLER    SOUTH 

YOU  are  really  in  Mexico  before  you  get  there, 
liaredo  is  a  purely  —  though  not  pure  — 
Mexican  town  with  a  slight  American  tinge.  Scores 
of  dull-skinned  men  wander  listlessly  about  trying  to 
sell  sticks  of  candy  and  the  like  from  boards  carried 
on  their  heads.  There  are  not  a  dozen  shops  where 
the  clerks  speak  even  good  pidgin  English,  most 
signs  are  in  Spanish,  the  lists  of  voters  on  the  walls 
are  chiefly  of  Iberian  origin,  the  very  county  officers 
from  sheriff  down  —  or  up  —  are  names  the  aver- 
age American  could  not  pronounce,  and  the  saun- 
terer  in  the  streets  may  pass  hours  without  hearing 
a  word  of  English.  Even  the  post-office  emploj^ees 
speak  Spanish  by  preference  and  I  could  not  do  the 
simplest  business  without  resorting  to  that  tongue. 
I  am  fond  of  Spanish,  but  I  do  not  relish  being  forced 

to  use  it  in  my  own  country. 

3 


4  TRAMPING  THROUGH  MEXICO 

On  Laredo's  rare  breeze  rides  enough  dust  to  build 
a  new  world.  Every  street  is  inches  deep  in  it, 
everything  in  town,  including  the  minds  of  the  in- 
habitants, is  covered  with  it.  As  to  heat  — "  Cin- 
cinnati Slim "  put  it  in  a  nutshell  even  as  we 
wandered  in  from  the  cattleyards  where  the  freight 
train  had  dropped  us  in  the  small  hours :  "  If  ever 
hell  gets  full  this  '11  do  fine  for  an  annex." 

Luckily  my  window  in  the  ruin  that  masqueraded 
as  a  hotel  faced  such  wind  as  existed.  The  only 
person  I  saw  in  that  institution  during  twenty-four 
hours  there  was  a  little  Mexican  boy  with  a  hand- 
broom,  which  he  evidently  carried  as  an  ornament 
or  a  sign  of  office.  It  seemed  a  pity  not  to  let 
Mexico  have  the  dust-laden,  sweltering  place  if  they 
want  it  so  badly. 

I  had  not  intended  to  lug  into  Mexico  such  a  load 
as  I  did.  But  it  was  a  Jewish  holiday,  and  the 
pawnshops  were  closed.  As  I  passed  the  lodge  on 
the  north  end  of  the  bridge  over  the  languid,  brown 
Rio  Grande  it  was  a  genuine  American  voice  that 
snapped :     "  Heh !     A  nickel !  " 

Just  beyond,  but  thirty-six  minutes  earlier,  the 
Mexican  official  stopped  me  with  far  more  courtesy, 
and  peered  down  into  the  corners  of  my  battered 
"  telescope  "  without  disturbing  the  contents. 

"Monterey?"  he  asked. 

"  Si,  senor." 

"  No  revolver.?  "  he  queried  suspiciously. 


The  first  glimpse  of  Mexico.     Looking  across  the  Rio  Grande  at 

Laredo 


A  corner  of  Monterey  from  my  hotel  window 


INTO  THE  COOLER  SOUTH  7 

"  No,  senor,"  I  answered,  keeping  the  coat  on 
my  arm  unostentatiously  over  my  hip  pocket.  It 
was  n't  a  revolver ;  it  was  an  automatic. 

The  man  who  baedekerized  Mexico  says  Nuevo 
Laredo  is  not  the  place  to  judge  that  country.  I 
was  glad  to  hear  it.  Its  imitation  of  a  street-car, 
eight  feet  long,  was  manned  by  two  tawny  children 
without  uniforms,  nor  any  great  amount  of  substi- 
tute for  them,  who  smoked  cigarettes  incessantly  as 
we  crawled  dustily  through  the  baked-mud  hamlet 
to  the  decrepit  shed  that  announced  itself  the  sta- 
tion of  the  National  Railways  of  Mexico.     It  was 


closed,  of  course.  I  waited  an  hour  or  more  before 
two  officials  resplendent  in  uniforms  drifted  in  to 
take  up  the  waiting  where  I  had  left  off.  But  it 
was  a  real  train  that  pulled  in  toward  three,  from 
far-off  St.  Louis,  even  if  it  had  hooked  on  behind 
a  second-class  car  with  long  wooden  benches. 

For  an  hour  we  rambled  across  just  such  land  as 
southern  Texas,  endless  flat  sand  scattered  with 
chaparral,  mesquite,  and  cactus ;  nowhere  a  sign  of 
life,  but  for  fences  of  one  or  two  barb-wires  on 
crooked  sticks  —  not  even  bird  life.  The  wind, 
strong  and  incessant  as  at  sea,  sounded  as  mournful 
through  the  thorny  mesquite  bushes  as  in  our 
Northern  winters,  even  though  here  it  brought  relief 
rather  than  suffering.  The  sunshine  was  unbrok- 
enly  glorious. 

Benches  of  stained  wood  in  two-inch  strips  ran 


8  TRAMPING  THROUGH  MEXICO 

the  entire  length  of  our  car,  made  in  Indiana.  In 
the  center  were  ten  double  back-to-back  seats  of  the 
same  material.  The  conductor  was  American,  but 
as  in  Texas  he  seemed  to  have  little  to  do  except  to 
keep  the  train  moving.  The  auditor,  brakeman,  and 
train-boy  were  Mexicans,  in  similar  uniforms,  but 
of  thinner  physique  and  more  brown  of  color.  The 
former  spoke  fluent  English.  The  engineer  was 
American  and  the  fireman  a  Negro. 

Far  ahead,  on  either  side,  hazy  high  mountains 
appeared,  as  at  sea.  Bj'^  the  time  we  halted  at 
Lampazos,  fine  serrated  ranges  stood  not  far  dis- 
tant on  either  hand.  From  the  east  came  a  never- 
ceasing  wind,  stronger  than  that  of  the  train,  laden 
with  a  fine  sand  that  crept  in  everywhere.  Mexican 
costumes  had  appeared  at  the  very  edge  of  the 
border ;  now  there  were  even  a  few  police  under  enor- 
mous hats,  with  tight  trousers  and  short  jackets 
showing  a  huge  revolver  at  the  hip.  Toward  even- 
ing things  grew  somewhat  greener.  A  tree  six  to 
twelve  feet  high,  without  branches,  or  sometimes  with 
several  trunk-like  ones,  growing  larger  from  bottom 
to  top  and  ending  in  a  bristling  bunch  of  leaves, 
became  common.  The  mountains  on  both  sides 
showed  fantastic  peaks  and  ridges,  changing  often 
in  aspect ;  some,  thousands  of  feet  high  with  flat 
tableland  tops,  others  in  strange  forms  the  imag- 
ination could  animate  into  all  manner  of  crea- 
tures. 


INTO  THE  COOLER  SOUTH  9 

A  goatherd,  wild,  tawny,  bearded,  dressed  in  sun- 
faded  sheepskin,  was  seen  now  and  then  tending  his 
flocks  of  little  white  goats  in  the  sand  and  cactus. 
This  was  said  to  be  the  rainy  season  in  northern 
Mexico.     What  must  it  be  in  the  dry.? 

Toward  five  the  sun  set  long  before  sunset,  so 
high  was  the  mountain  wall  on  our  right.  The 
sand-storm  had  died  down,  and  the  sand  gave  way 
to  rocks.  The  moon,  almost  full,  already  smiled 
down  upon  us  over  the  wall  on  the  left.  We  con- 
tinued along  the  plain  between  the  ranges,  which 
later  receded  into  the  distance,  as  if  retiring  for 
the  night.  Flat,  mud-colored,  Palestinian  adobe 
huts  stood  here  and  there  in  the  moonlight  among 
patches  of  a  sort  of  palm  bush. 

Monterey  proved  quite  a  city.  Yet  how  the  ways 
of  the  Spaniard  appeared  even  here !  Close  as  it 
is  to  the  United  States,  with  many  American  resi- 
dents and  much  "  americanizado,"  according  to  the 
Mexican,  the  city  is  in  architecture,  arrangement, 
customs,  just  what  it  would  be  a  hundred  miles  from 
Madrid;  almost  every  little  detail  of  life  is  that  of 
Spain,  with  scarcely  enough  difference  to  suggest 
another  country,  to  say  nothing  of  another  hemi- 
sphere. England  brings  to  her  colonies  some  of  her 
home  customs,  but  not  an  iota  of  what  Spain  does 
to  the  lands  she  has  conquered.  The  hiding  of 
wealth  behind  a  miserable  fa9ade  is  almost  as  uni- 
versal  in    Mexico   of   the   twentieth   century   as   in 


10        TRAMPING  THROUGH  MEXICO 

Morocco  of  the  fourth.  The  narrow  streets  of 
Monterey  have  totally  inadequate  sidewalks  on 
which  two  pedestrians  pass,  if  at  all,  with  the  rub- 
bing of  shoulders.  Outwardly  the  long  vista  of  bare 
house  fronts  that  toe  them  on  either  side  are  dreary 
and  poor,  every  window  barred  as  those  of  a  prison. 
Yet  in  them  sat  well-dressed  senoritas  waiting  for 
the  lovers  who  "  play  the  bear  "  to  late  hours  of  the 
night,  and  over  their  shoulders  the  passerby  caught 
many  a  glimpse  of  richly  furnished  rooms  and 
flowery  patios  beyond. 

The  river  Catalina  was  drier  than  even  the  Man- 
zanares,  its  rocky  bed,  wide  enough  to  hold  the 
upper  Connecticut,  entirely  taken  up  by  mule  and 
donkey  paths  and  set  with  the  cloth  booths  of  fruit 
sellers.  As  one  moves  south  it  grows  cooler,  and 
IMonterey,  fifteen  hundred  feet  above  sea-level,  was 
not  so  weighty  in  its  heat  as  Laredo  and  southern 
Texas.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  being  surrounded 
on  most  sides  by  mountains,  it  had  less  breeze,  and 
the  coatless  freedom  of  Texas  was  here  looked  down 
upon.  During  the  hours  about  noonday  the  sun 
seemed  to  strike  physically  on  the  head  and  back 
whoever  stepped  out  into  it,  and  the  smallest  fleck 
of  white  cloud  gave  great  and  instant  relief.  From 
ten  to  four,  more  or  less,  the  city  was  strangely 
quiet,  as  if  more  than  half  asleep,  or  away  on  a 
vacation,  and  over  it  hung  that  indefinable  scent 
peculiar  to  Arab  and  Spanish  countries.     Compared 


A  peon  restaurant  in  tlie  market-place  of  San  Iahs  Potosi 


A  market  woman  of  San  Luis  Potosi 


INTO  THE  COOLER  SOUTH  13 

with  Spain,  however,  its  night  life  and  movement 
was  slight. 

Convicts  in  perpendicularly  striped  blue  and 
white  pajamas  worked  in  the  streets.  That  is,  they 
moved  once  every  twenty  minutes  or  so,  usually  to 
roll  a  cigarette.  They  were  without  shackles,  but 
several  guards  in  brown  uniforms  and  broad  felt 
hats,  armed  with  thick-set  muskets,  their  chests 
criss-crossed  with  belts  of  long  rifle  cartridges, 
lolled  in  the  shade  of  every  near-by  street  corner. 
The  prisoners  laughed  and  chatted  like  men  per- 
fectly contented  with  their  lot,  and  moved  about  with 
great  freedom.  One  came  a  block  to  ask  me  the 
time,  and  loafed  there  some  fifteen  minutes  before 
returning  to  his  "  labor." 

Mexico  is  strikingly  faithful  to  its  native  dress. 
Barely  across  the  Rio  Grande  the  traveler  sees  at 
once  hundreds  of  costumes  which  in  any  American 
city  would  draw  on  all  the  boy  population  as  surely 
as  the  Piper  of  Hamelin.  First  and  foremost  comes 
always  the  enormous  hat,  commonly  of  thick  felt 
with  decorative  tape,  the  crown  at  least  a  foot  high, 
the  brim  surely  three  feet  in  diameter  even  when 
turned  up  sufficient  to  hold  a  half  gallon  of  water. 
That  of  the  peon  is  of  straw ;  he  too  wears  the  skin- 
tight trousers,  and  goes  barefoot  but  for  a  flat 
leather  sandal  held  by  a  thong  between  the  big  toe 
and  the  rest.  In  details  and  color  every  dress  was 
as  varied  and  individual  as  the  shades  of  complexion. 


14        TRAMPING  THROUGH  MEXICO 

My  hotel  room  had  a  fine  outlook  to  summer-blue 
mountains,  but  was  blessed  with  neither  mirror, 
towel,  nor  water.  I  descended  to  the  alleyway 
between  "  dining-room  "  and  barnyard,  where  I  had 
seen  the  general  washbasin,  but  found  the  landlady 
seated  on  the  kitchen  floor  shelling  into  it  peas  for 
our  almuerzo.  This  and  the  evening  comida  were 
always  identically  the  same.  A  cheerful  but  slat- 
ternly Indian  woman  set  before  me  a  thin  soup  con- 
taining a  piece  of  squash  and  a  square  of  boiled  beef, 
and  eight  hot  corn  tortillas  of  the  size  and  shape  of 
our  pancakes,  or  ghehis,  the  Arab  bread,  which  it 
outdid  in  toughness,  and  totally  devoid  of  taste. 
Next  followed  a  plate  of  rice  with  peppers,  a  plate 
of  tripe  less  tough  than  it  should  have  been,  and  a 
plate  of  brown  beans  which  was  known  by  the  name 
of  chile  con  came,  but  in  which  I  never  succeeded  in 
finding  anything  carnal.  Every  meal  ended  with  a 
cup  of  the  blackest  coff^ee. 

Out  at  the  end  of  calle  B  a  well-worn  rocky  path 
leads  up  to  a  ruined  chapel  on  the  summit  of  a  hill, 
the  famous  Obispado  from  which  the  cit}'^  was 
shelled  and  taken  by  the  Americans  in  1847. 
Below,  INIonterey  lies  flat,  with  many  low  trees  peer- 
ing above  the  whitish  houses,  all  set  in  a  perfectly 
level  plain  giving  a  great  sense  of  roominess,  as  if 
it  could  easily  hold  ten  such  cities.  At  the  foot  of 
the  hill,  some  three  hundred  feet  high,  is  an  unoc- 
cupied  space.     Then  the   city   begins,  leisurely   at 


INTO  THE  COOLER  SOUTH  15 

first,  with  few  houses  and  many  gardens  and  trees, 
thickening  farther  on.  All  about  are  mountains. 
-The  Snia  (Saddle),  a  sharp  rugged  height  backing 
the  city  on  the  right,  has  a  notch  in  it  much  like  the 
seat  of  a  Texas  saddle ;  to  the  far  left  are  fantastic 
sharp  peaks,  and  across  the  plain  a  ragged  range 
perhaps  fifteen  miles  distant  shuts  off  the  view. 
Behind  the  chapel  stand  Los  Dientes,  a  teeth  or  saw- 
like range  resembling  that  behind  Lecco  in  Italy. 
Only  a  young  beggar  and  his  female  mate  occupied 
the  ruined  chapel,  built,  like  the  town,  of  whitish 
stone  that  is  soft  when  dug  but  hardens  upon  ex- 
posure to  the  air.  They  cooked  on  the  littered  floor 
of  one  of  the  dozen  rooms-,  and  all  the  walls  of  the 
chamber  under  the  great  dome  were  set  with  pegs 
for  birds,  absent  now,  but  which  had  carpeted  the 
floor  with  proof  of  their  frequent  presence. 

At  five  the  sun  set  over  the  city,  so  high  is  the 
Dientes  range,  but  for  some  time  still  threw  a  soft 
light  on  the  farther  plain  and  hills.  Compared  with 
our  own  land  there  is  something  profoundly  peace- 
ful in  this  climate  and  surroundings.  Now  the  sun- 
shine slipped  up  off"  the  farther  ranges,  showing 
only  on  the  light  band  of  clouds  high  above  the 
farther  horizon,  and  a  pale-faced  moon  began  to 
brighten,  heralding  a  brilliant  evening. 

Fertile  plains  of  corn  stretched  south  of  the  city, 
but  already  dry,  and  soon  giving  way  to  mesquite 
and  dust  again.     Mountains  never  ceased,  and  lay 


16        TRAMPING  THROUGH  MEXICO 

fantastically  heaped  up  on  every  side.  We  rose 
ever  higher,  though  the  train  kept  a  moderate 
speed.  At  one  station  the  bleating  of  a  great  truck- 
load  of  kids,  their  legs  tied,  heaped  one  above  the 
other,  was  startlingly  like  the  crying  of  babies. 
We  steamed  upward  through  a  narrow  pass,  the 
mountains  crowding  closer  on  either  hand  and  seem- 
ing to  grow  lower  as  we  rose  higher  among  them. 
The  landscape  became  less  arid,  half  green,  with 
little  or  no  cactus,  and  the  breeze  cooled  steadily. 
Saltillo  at  last,  five  thousand  feet  up,  was  above  the 
reach  of  oppressive  summer  and  for  perhaps  the  first 
time  since  leaving  Chicago  I  did  not  suffer  from  the 
heat.  It  was  almost  a  pleasure  to  splash  through 
the  little  puddles  in  its  poorly  paved  streets.  Its 
plazas  were  completely  roofed  with  trees,  the  view 
down  any  of  its  streets  was  enticing,  and  the  little 
cubes  of  houses  were  painted  all  possible  colors  with- 
out any  color  scheme  whatever.  Here  I  saw  the 
first  pulquerias,  much  like  cheap  saloons  in  appear- 
ance, with  swinging  doors,  sometimes  a  pool  table, 
and  a  bartender  of  the  customary  I-tell-yer-I  'm- 
tough  physiognomy.  Huge  earthen  jars  of  the  fer- 
mented cactus  juice  stood  behind  the  bar,  much  like 
milk  in  appearance,  and  was  served  in  glazed  pots, 
size  to  order.  In  Mexico  pulqueria  stands  for 
saloon  and  peluqueria  for  barber-shop,  resulting  now 
and  then  in  sad  mistakes  by  wandering  Yankees 
innocent  of  Spanish. 


a 
o 

02 


:v...v:; 


INTO  THE  COOLER  SOUTH  19 

There  were  a  hundred  adult  passengers  by  actual 
count,  to  say  nothing  of  babies  and  unassorted 
bundles,  in  the  second-class  car  that  carried  me  on 
south  into  the  night.  Every  type  of  Mexican  was 
represented,  from  white,  soft,  city-bred  specimens 
to  sturdy  countrymen  so  brown  as  to  be  almost 
black.  A  few  men  were  in  "  European "  garb. 
Most  of  them  were  dressed  a  la  peon,  very  tight 
trousers  fitting  like  long  leggings,  collarless  shirts 
of  all  known  colors,  a  gay  faja  or  cloth  belt,  some- 
times a  coat  —  always  stopping  at  the  waist.  Then 
last,  but  never  least,  the  marvelous  hat.  Two  peons 
trying  to  get  through  the  same  door  at  once  was  a 
sight  not  soon  to  be  forgotten.  There  were  felt  and 
straw  hats  of  every  possible  grade  and  every  shade 
and  color  except  red,  wound  with  a  rich  band  about 
the  crown  and  another  around  the  brim.  Those  of 
straw  were  of  every  imaginable  weave,  some  of  rat- 
tan, like  baskets  or  veranda  furniture.  The  INIex- 
ican  male  seems  to  be  able  to  endure  sameness  of 
costume  below  it,  but  unless  his  hat  is  individual, 
life  is  a  drab  blank  to  him.  With  his  hat  off  the 
peon  loses  seven  eights  of  his  impressiveness.  The 
women,  with  only  a  black  sort  of  thin  shawl  over 
their  heads,  were  eminently  inconspicuous  in  the 
forest  of  hatted  men. 

Mournfully  out  of  the  black  drizzling  night  about 
the  station  came  the  dismal  wails  of  hawkers  at  their 
little  stands  dim-lighted  by  pale  lanterns ;   "  Anda 


20         TRAMPING  THROUGH  MEXICO 

pulque!  "  Within  the  car  was  more  politeness  — 
or  perhaps,  more  exactly,  more  unconscious  con- 
sideration for  others  than  north  of  the  Rio  Grande. 
There  were  many  women  among  us,  yet  all  the  night 
through  there  was  not  a  suggestion  of  indecency  or 
annoyance.  Indian  blood  largely  predominated, 
hardy,  muscular,  bright-eyed  fellows,  yet  in  conduct 
all  were  caballeros.  Near  me  sat  a  family  of  three. 
The  father,  perhaps  twenty,  was  strikingly  hand- 
some in  his  burnished  copper  skin,  his  heavy  black 
hair,  four  or  five  inches  long,  hanging  down  in 
"  bangs "  below  his  hat.  The  mother  was  even 
younger,  yet  the  child  was  already  some  two  years 
old,  the  chubbiest,  brightest-eyed  bundle  of  human- 
ity imaginable.  In  their  fight  for  a  seat  the  man 
shouted  to  the  wife  to  hand  him  the  child.  He 
caught  it  by  one  hand  and  swung  it  high  over  two 
seats  and  across  the  car,  yet  it  never  ceased  smiling. 
The  care  this  untutored  fellow  took  to  give  wife  and 
child  as  much  comfort  as  possible  was  superior  to 
that  many  a  "  civilized  "  man  would  have  shown  all 
night  under  the  same  circumstances.  Splendid 
teeth  were  universal  among  the  peons.  There  was 
no  chewing  of  tobacco,  but  much  spitting  by  both 
sexes.  A  delicate,  child-like  young  woman  drew  out 
a  bottle  and  swallowed  whole  glassfuls  of  what 
I  took  to  be  milk,  until  the  scent  of  pulque,  the  native 
beverage,  suddenly  reached  my  nostrils. 

The    fat    brown    auditor    addressed    sefiora,    the 


INTO  THE  COOLER  SOUTH  21 

peon's  wife,  with  the  highest  respect,  even  if  he  in- 
sisted on  doing  his  duty  to  the  extent  of  pushing 
aside  the  skirts  of  the  women  to  peer  under  the  long 
wooden  bench  for  passengers.  A  dispute  soon 
arose.  Fare  was  demanded  of  a  ragged  peon  for  the 
child  of  three  under  his  arm.  The  peon  shook  his 
head,  smiling.  The  auditor's  voice  grew  louder. 
Still  the  father  smiled  silently.  The  ticket  collector 
stepped  back  into  the  first-class  car  and  returned 
with  the  train  guard,  a  boyish-looking  fellow  in  peon 
garb  from  hat  to  legging  trousers,  with  a  brilliant 
red  tie,  two  belts  of  enormous  cartridges  about  his 
waist,  in  his  hand  a  short  ugly  rifle,  and  a  harm- 
less smile  on  his  face.  There  was  something  fas- 
cinating about  the  stocky  little  fellow  with  his  half- 
embarrassed  grin.  One  felt  that  of  himself  he 
would  do  no  man  hurt,  yet  that  a  curt  order  would 
cause  him  to  send  one  of  those  long  steel-jacketed 
bullets  through  a  man  and  into  the  mountain  side 
beyond.  Luckily  he  got  no  such  orders.  The  audi- 
tor pointed  out  the  malefactor,  who  lost  no  time 
in  paying  the  child's  half-fare. 

This  all-night  trip  must  be  done  sooner  or  later 
by  all  who  enter  Mexico  by  way  of  Laredo,  for  the         /i»^^*'  t 
St.  Louis-Mexico  City  Limited  with  its  sleeping-car  y^'^"-^*^ 

behind  and  a  few  scattered  Americans  in  first-class 
is  the  only  one  that  covers  this  section.  Residents 
of  Vanegas,  for  example,  who  wish  to  travel  south 
must  be  at  the   station   at  three  in   the  morning. 


22        TRAMPING  THROUGH  MEXICO 

Most  of  the  night  the  train  toiled  painfully  upward. 
As  a  man  scorns  to  set  out  after  a  hearty  meal  with 
a  lunch  under  his  arm,  so  in  the  swelter  of  Texas 
I  had  felt  it  foolish  to  be  lugging  a  bundle  of  heavy 
clothing.  By  midnight  I  began  to  credit  myself 
with  foresight.  The  windows  were  closed,  yet  the 
land  of  yesterday  seemed  far  behind  indeed.  I 
wrapped  my  heavy  coat  about  me.  Toward  four 
we  crossed  the  Tropic  of  Cancer  into  the  Torrid 
Zone,  without  a  jolt,  and  I  dug  out  my  gray  sweater 
and  regretted  I  had  abandoned  the  old  blue  one  in 
an  empty  box-car.  Twice  I  think  I  drowsed  four 
minutes  with  head  and  elbow  on  my  bundle,  but 
except  for  two  or  three  women  who  jack-knifed  on 
the  long  bench  no  one  found  room  to  lie  down  during 
the  long  night. 

From  daylight  on  I  stood  in  the  vestibule  and 
watched  the  drab  landscape  hurry  steadily  past. 
No  mountains  were  in  sight  now  because  we  were 
on  top  of  them.  Yet  no  one  would  have  suspected 
from  the  appearance  of  the  country  that  we  were 
considerably  more  than  a  mile  above  sea-level.  The 
flat  land  looked  not  greatly  different  from  that  of 
the  day  before.  The  cactus  was  higher ;  some  of 
the  "  organ  "  variety,  many  of  the  "  Spanish  bay- 
onet "  species,  lance-like  stalks  eight  to  ten  feet 
high.  The  rest  was  bare  ground  with  scattered 
mesquite  bushes.     Had  I  not  known  the  altitude  I 


INTO  THE  COOLER  SOUTH  "  2S 

might  have  attributed  the  slight  light-headedness  to 
a  sleepless  night. 

Certainly  a  hundred  ragged  cargadores,  hotel 
runners,  and  boys  eager  to  carry  my  bundle  attacked 
me  during  my  escape  from  the  station  of  San  Luis 
Potosi  at  seven,  and  there  were  easily  that  many 
carriages  waiting,  without  a  dozen  to  take  them. 
The  writer  of  Mexico's  Baedeker  speaks  of  the  city 
as  well-to-do.  Either  it  has  vastly  changed  in  a 
few  years  or  he  wrote  it  up  by  absent  treatment. 
Hardly  a  town  of  India  exceeds  it  in  picturesque 
poverty.  Such  a  surging  of  pauperous  humanity, 
dirt,  and  uncomplaining  misery  I  had  never  before 
seen  in  the  Western  Hemisphere.  Plainly  the  name 
"  republic "  is  no  cure  for  man's  ills.  The  chief 
center  was  the  swarming  market.  Picture  a  dense 
mob  of  several  thousand  men  and  boys,  gaunt, 
weather-beaten,  their  tight  trousers  collections  of 
rents  and  patchwork  in  many  colors,  sandals  of  a 
soft  piece  of  leather  showing  a  foot  cracked,  black- 
ened, tough  as  a  hoof,  as  incrusted  with  filth  as  a  dead 
foot  picked  up  on  a  garbage  heap,  the  toes  always 
squirting  with  mud,  the  feet  not  merely  never  washed 
but  the  sandal  never  removed  until  it  wears  off  and 
drops  of  its  self.  Above  this  a  collarless  shirt, 
blouse  or  short  jacket,  ragged,  patched,  of  many 
faded  colors,  yet  still  showing  half  the  body.  Then 
a     dull,     uncomplaining,     take-things-as-they-come 


U         TRAMPING  THROUGH  MEXICO 

face,  unwashed,  never  shaved  —  the  pure  Indian 
grows  a  sort  of  dark  down  on  his  cheeks  and  the 
point  of  the  chin,  the  half-breeds  a  slight  beard  — 
all  topped  by  the  enormous  hat,  never  missing, 
though  often  full  of  holes,  black  with  dirt,  weather- 
beaten  beyond  expression. 

Then  there  were  fully  as  many  women  and  girls, 
even  less  fortunate,  for  they  had  not  even  sandals, 
but  splashed  along  barefoot  among  the  small  cold 
cobblestones.  Their  dress  seemed  gleaned  from  a 
rag-heap  and  their  heads  were  bare,  their  black  hair 
combed  or  plastered  flat.  Children  of  both  sexes 
were  exact  miniatures  of  their  elders.  All  these 
wretches  were  here  to  sell.  Yet  what  was  for  sale 
could  easily  have  been  tended  by  twenty  persons. 
Instead,  every  man,  woman,  and  child  had  his  own 
stand,  or  bit  of  cloth  or  cobblestone  on  which  to 
spread  a  few  scanty,  bedraggled  wares.  Such  a 
mass  of  silly,  useless,  pathetic  articles,  toy  jars,  old 
bottles,  anything  that  could  be  found  in  all  the 
dump-heaps  of  Christendom.  The  covered  market 
housed  only  a  verj^  small  percentage  of  the  whole. 
There  was  a  constant,  multicolored  going  and  com- 
ing, with  many  laden  asses  and  miserable,  gaunt 
creatures  bent  nearly  double  under  enormous  loads 
on  head  or  shoulders.  Every  radiating  narrow 
mud-dripping  street  for  a  quarter-mile  was  covered 
in  all  but  the  slight  passageway  in  the  center  with 
these    displays.     Bedraggled    women    sat    on     the 


INTO  THE  COOLER  SOUTH  25 

cobbles  with  aprons  spread  out  and  on  them  little 
piles  of  six  nuts  each,  sold  at  a  ccntavo.  There 
were  peanuts,  narrow  strips  of  cocoanut,  plantains, 
bananas  short  and  fat,  sickly  little  apples,  dwarf 
peaches,  small  wild  grapes,  oranges  green  in  color, 
potatoes  often  no  larger  than  marbles,  as  if  the  pos- 
sessor could  not  wait  until  they  grew  up  before 
digging  them;  cactus  leaves,  the  spines  shaved  off, 
cut  up  into  tin}^  squares  to  serve  as  food;  bundles 
of  larger  cactus  spines  brought  in  by  hobbling  old 
women  or  on  dismal  asses  and  sold  as  fuel,  aguacates, 
known  to  us  as  "  alligator  pears  "  and  tasting  to  the 
uninitiated  like  axle-grease ;  pomegranates,  pecans, 
cheeses  flat  and  white,  every  species  of  basket  and 
earthen  jar  from  two-inch  size  up,  turnips,  some  cut 
in  two  for  those  who  could  not  afford  a  whole  one ; 
onions,  flat  slabs  of  bro^vn,  muddy-looking  soap,  rice, 
every  species  of  frijole  or  bean,  shelled  corn  for  tor- 
tillas, tomatoes  —  tomate  coloradito,  though  many 
were  tiny  and  green  as  if  also  prematurely  gathered 
—  peppers  red  and  green,  green-corn  with  most  of 
the  kernels  blue,  lettuce,  radishes,  cucumbers,  carrots, 
cabbages,  melons  of  every  size  except  large,  string- 
beans,  six-inch  cones  of  the  muddiest  of  sugar,  the 
first  rough  product  of  the  crushers  wound  in  swamp 
grass  and  which  prospective  purchasers  handled 
over  and  over,  testing  them  now  and  then  by  biting 
off  a  small  corner,  though  there  was  no  apparent 
difference ;  sausages  with  links  of  marble  size,  every- 


26         TRAMPING  THROUGH  MEXICO 

thing  in  the  way  of  meat,  tossed  about  in  the  dirt, 
swarming  with  flies,  handled,  smelled,  cut  into  tiny 
bits  for  purchasers ;  even  strips  of  intestines,  the 
jaw-bone  of  a  sheep  with  barely  the  smell  of  meat 
on  it ;  all  had  value  to  this  gaunt  community,  noth- 
ing was  too  green,  or  old,  or  rotten  to  be  offered  for 
sale.  Chickens  with  legs  tied  lay  on  the  ground 
or  were  carried  about  from  day  to  day  until  pur- 
chasers of  such  expensive  luxuries  appeared.  There 
were  many  men  with  a  little  glass  box  full  of  squares 
of  sweets  like  "  fudge,"  selling  at  a  half-cent  each ; 
every  possible  odd  and  end  of  the  shops  was  there ; 
old  women  humped  over  their  meager  wares,  smok- 
ing cigarettes,  offered  for  sale  the  scraps  of  calico 
left  over  from  the  cutting  of  a  gown,  six-inch  tri- 
angles of  no  fathomable  use  to  purchasers.  There 
were  entire  blocks  selling  only  long  strips  of  leather 
for  the  making  of  sandals.  Many  a  vendor  had  all 
the  earmarks  of  leprosy.  There  were  easily  five 
thousand  of  them,  besides  another  market  on  the 
other  side  of  the  town,  for  this  poverty-stricken  city 
of  some  fifty  thousand  inhabitants.  The  swarming 
stretched  a  half  mile  away  in  many  a  radiating 
street,  and  scores  whose  entire  stock  could  not  be 
worth  fifteen  cents  sat  all  day  without  selling  more 
than  half  of  it.  An  old  woman  stopped  to  pick  up 
tour  grains  of  corn  and  greedily  tucked  them  away 
in  the  rags  that  covered  her  emaciated  frame. 
Now   and   then    a   better-dressed   potosino   passed, 


The  funncr  lioiue,  in  Dolores  Hidalgo,  of  the  Mexican  "Father  of 
his  Country" 


Rancho  del  Capulln,  where  I  ended  the  first  day  of  tramping  in 

Mexico 


INTO  THE  COOLER  SOUTH  29 

making  purchases,  a  peon,  male  or  female,  slinking 
along  behind  with  a  basket ;  for  it  is  a  horrible  breach 
of  etiquette  for  a  ten-dollar-a-month  Mexican  to  be 
publicly  seen  carrying  anything. 

One  wondered  why  there  was  not  general  suicide 
in  such  a  community  of  unmitigated  misery.  Why 
did  they  not  spring  upon  me  and  snatch  the  purse  I 
displayed  or  die  in  the  attempt.''  How  did  they 
resist  eating  up  their  own  wares  ^  It  seemed  strange 
that  these  sunken-chested,  hobbling,  halt,  shuffling, 
shivering,  starved  creatures  should  still  fight  on  for 
life.  Why  did  they  not  suddenly  rise  and  sack  the 
city.'*  No  wonder  those  are  ripe  for  revolution 
whose  condition  cannot  be  made  worse. 

Policemen  in  sandals  and  dark-blue  shoddy  cap 
and  cloak  looked  little  less  miserable  than  the  peons. 
All  about  the  covered  market  were  peon  restaurants, 
a  ragged  strip  of  canvas  as  roof,  under  it  an  ancient 
wooden  table  and  two  benches.  Unwashed  Indian 
women  cooked  in  several  open  earthen  bowls  the 
favorite  Mexican  dishes, —  frijoles  (a  stew  of  brown 
beans),  chile  con  carne,  rice,  stews  of  stray  scraps 
of  meat  and  the  leavings  of  the  butcher-shops. 
These  were  dished  up  in  brown  glazed  jars  and  eaten 
with  strips  of  tortilla  folded  between  the  fingers, 
as  the  Arab  eats  with  gkebis.  Indeed  there  were 
many  things  reminiscent  of  the  markets  and  streets 
of  Damascus,  more  customs  similar  to  those  of  the 
Moor  than  the  Spaniard  could  have  brought  over, 


30         TRAMPING  THROUGH  MEXICO 

and  the  brown,  wrinkled  old  women  much  resembled 
those  of  Palestine,  though  their  noses  were  flatter 
and  their  features  heavier. 

Yet  it  w^as  a  good-natured  crowd.  In  all  my 
"Wandering  in  it  I  heard  not  an  unpleasant  word,  not 
a  jest  at  my  expense,  almost  no  evidence  of  anti- 
foreign  feeling,  which  seems  not  indigenous  to  the 
peon,  but  implanted  in  him  by  those  of  ulterior 
motives.  Nor  did  the}^  once  ask  alms  or  attempt 
to  push  misery  forward.  The  least  charitable 
would  be  strongly  tempted  to  succor  any  one  of  the 
throng  individually,  but  here  a  hundred  dollars  in 
American  money  divided  into  Mexican  centavos 
would  hardly  go  round.  Here  and  there  were  pul- 
querias  full  of  besotted,  shouting  men  —  and  who 
would  not  drink  to  drown  such  misery? 

There  was  not  a  male  of  any  species  but  had  his 
colored  blanket,  red,  purple,  Indian-yellow,  gener- 
ally with  two  black  stripes,  the  poorer  with  a  strip 
of  old  carpet.  These  they  wound  about  their 
bodies,  folding  them  across  the  chest,  the  arms 
hugged  together  inside  in  such  a  way  as  to  bring 
a  corner  across  the  mouth  and  nose,  leaving  their 
pipe-stem  legs  below,  and  wandered  thus  dismally 
about  in  the  frequent  spurts  of  cold  rain.  Now  and 
then  a  lowest  of  the  low  passed  in  the  cast-ofF  rem- 
nants of  "  European  "  clothes,  which  were  evidently 
considered  far  inferior  to  peon  garb,  however  be- 
draggled.    Bare  or  sandaled  feet  seemed  impervious 


INTO  THE  COOLER  SOUTH  31 

to  cold,  again  like  the  Arab,  as  was  also  this  fear 
of  the  raw  air  and  half  covering  of  the  face  that 
gave  a  Mohammedan  touch,  especially  to  the  women. 
To  me  the  atmosphere  was  no  different  than  late 
October  in  the  States.  The  peons  evidently  never 
shaved,  though  there  were  many  miserable  little 
barber-shops.  On  the  farther  outskirts  of  the 
hawkers  were  long  rows  of  shanties,  shacks  made  of 
everything  under  the  sun,  flattened  tin  cans,  scraps 
of  rubbish,  two  sticks  holding  up  a  couple  of  ragged 
bags  under  which  huddled  old  women  with  scraps 
of  cactus  and  bundles  of  tiny  fagots. 

Scattered  through  the  throng  were  several 
"  readers."  One  half-Indian  woman  I  passed  many 
times  was  reading  incessantly,  with  the  speed  of  a 
Frenchman,  from  printed  strips  of  cheap  colored 
paper  which  she  offered  for  sale  at  a  cent  each. 
They  were  political  in  nature,  often  in  verse,  insult- 
ing in  treatment,  and  mixed  with  a  crass  obscenity 
at  which  the  dismal  multitude  laughed  bestially. 
Three  musicians,  one  with  a  rude  harp,  a  boy  strik- 
ing a  triangle  steel,  sang  mournful  dirges  similar 
to  those  of  Andalusia.  The  peons  listened  to  both 
music  and  reading  motionless,  with  expressionless 
faces,  with  never  a  "  move  on  "  from  the  policeman, 
who  seemed  the  least  obstrusive  of  mortals. 

San  Luis  Potosi  has  many  large  rich  churches, 
misery  and  pseudo-religion  being  common  joint- 
legacies  of  Spanish  rule.     Small  chance  these  crea- 


S2         TRAMPING  THROUGH  MEXICO 

tures  would  have  of  feeling  at  home  in  a  place  so 
different  from  their  earthly  surroundings  as  the 
Christian  heaven.  The  thump  of  church  bells,  some 
with  the  voice  of  battered  old  tin  pans,  broke  out 
frequently.  Now  and  then  one  of  these  dregs  of 
humanity  crept  into  church  for  a  nap,  but  the  huge 
edifices  showed  no  other  sign  of  usefulness.  On  the 
whole  there  was  little  appearance  of  *'  religion."  A 
few  women  were  seen  in  the  churches,  a  book-seller 
sold  no  novels  and  little  literature  but  "  mucho  de 
religion,"  but  the  great  majority  gave  no  outward* 
sign  of  belonging  to  any  faith.  Priests  were  not 
often  seen  in  the  streets.  Mexican  law  forbids  them 
to  wear  a  distinctive  costume,  hence  they  dressed  in 
black  derbies.  Episcopal  neckbands,  and  black  capes 
to  the  ankles.  Not  distinctive  indeed!  No  one 
could  have  guessed  what  they  were !  One  might  have 
fancied  them  prize-fighters  on  the  way  from  train- 
ing quarters  to  bathroom. 

There  is  comparative  splendor  also  in  San  Luis,  as 
one  may  see  by  peeps  into  the  lighted  houses  at  night, 
but  it  is  shut  in  tight  as  if  fearful  of  the  poor  break- 
ing in.  As  in  so  many  Spanish  countries,  wealth 
shrinks  out  of  sight  and  misery  openly  parades 
itself. 

Out  across  the  railroad,  where  hundreds  of  ragged 
boys  were  riding  freight  cars  back  and  forth  in  front 
of  the  station,  the  land  lay  flat  as  a  table,  some 
cactus  here  and  there,  but  apparently  fertile,  with 


y GUADALUPE 


■^-> 


^ 


INTO  THE  COOLER  SOUTH  33 

neither  sod  to  break  nor  clearing  necessary.  Yet 
nowhere,  even  on  the  edge  of  the  starving  city,  was 
there  a  sign  of  cultivation.  We  of  the  North  were 
perhaps  kinder  to  the  Indian  in  killing  him  off. 


CHAPTER  II 


TEAMPING    THE    BYWAYS 


HEAVY  weather  still  hung  over  the  land  to  the 
southward.  Indian  corn,  dry  and  shriveled, 
was  sometimes  shocked  as  in  the  States.  The  first 
field  of  maguey  appeared,  planted  in  long  rows, 
barely  a  foot  high,  but  due  in  a  year  or  two  to  pro- 
duce pulque,  the  Mexican  scourge,  because  of  its 
cheapness,  stupefying  the  poorer  classes.  When 
fresh,  it  is  said  to  be  beneficial  in  kidney  troubles  and 
other  ailments,  but  soon  becomes  over  fermented  in 
the  pulquerias  of  the  cities  and  more  harmful  than  a 
stronger  liquor. 

Within  the  car  was  an  American  of  fifty,  thin  and 
draAVTi,  with  huddled  shoulders,  who  had  been  beaten 
by  rebel  forces  in  Zacatecas  and  robbed  of  his  worldly 
wealth  of  $13,000  hidden  in  vain  in  his  socks.  Num- 
bers of  United  States  box-cars  jolted  across  the 
country  end  to  end  with  Mexican ;  the  "  B.  &  0."  be- 
hind the  "Norte  de  Mejico,"  the  «  N.  Y.  C,"  fol- 
lowed by  the  "  Central  Mejicano."  Long  broad 
stretches  of  plain,  with  cactus  and  mesquite,  spread 

to  low  mountains  blue  with  cold  morning  mist,  all  but 

34 


TRAMPING  THE  BYWAYS  35 

their  base  hung  with  fog.  Beyond  Jesus  Maria, 
which  is  a  sample  of  the  station  names,  peons  lived  in 
bedraggled  tents  along  the  way,  and  the  corn  was 
even  drier.  The  world  seemed  threatening  to  dry  up 
entirely.  At  Cartagena  there  began  veritable  for- 
ests of  cactus  trees,  and  a  wild  scrub  resembling  the 
olive.  Thousands  of  tunas,  the  red  fruit  of  the 
cactus,  dotted  the  ground  along  the  way.  The  sun 
sizzled  its  way  through  the  heavy  sky  as  we  climbed 
the  flank  of  a  rocky  range,  the  vast  half  forested 
plain  to  the  east  sinking  lower  and  lower  as  we  rose. 
Then  came  broken  country  with  man}'  muddy  streams. 
It  was  the  altitude  perhaps  that  caused  the  patent 
feeling  of  exhilaration,  as  much  as  the  near  prospect 
of  taking  again  to  the  open  road. 

As  the  "  garrotero  "  ("  twister,"  or  "  choker  "  as 
the  brakeman  is  called  in  Mexico)  announced  Dolores 
Hidalgo,  I  slipped  four  cartridges  into  my  auto- 
matic. The  roadways  of  Mexico  offered  unknown 
possibilities.  A  six-foot  street-car  drawn  —  when 
at  all  —  b}'  mules,  stood  at  the  station,  but  I  struck 
off  across  the  rolling  country-  hj  a  footpath  that 
probably  led  to  the  invisible  town.  A  half-mile  lay 
behind  me  before  I  met  the  first  man.  He  was  riding 
an  ass,  but  when  I  gave  him  "  Buenos  dias,"  he  re- 
plied with  a  whining:  "Una  limosnita !  A  little 
alms,  for  the  love  of  God."  He  wore  a  rosary  about 
his  neck  and  a  huge  cross  on  his  chest.  When  I  ig- 
nored his  plea  he  rode  on  mumbling.     The  savage 


56        TRAIMPING  THROUGH  MEXICO 

bellow  of  a  bull  not  far  ofF  suggested  a  new  possible 
danger  on  the  road  in  this  unfenced  and  almost  tree- 
less country.  More  men  passed  on  asses,  mules,  and 
horses,  but  none  afoot.  Finally  over  the  brown  rise 
appeared  Dolores  Hidalgo ;  two  enormous  churches 
and  an  otherwise  small  town  in  a  tree-touched  valley. 
The  central  plaza,  with  many  trees  and  hedges 
trimmed  in  the  form  of  animals,  had  in  its  center  the 
statue  of  the  priest  Hidalgo  y  Costilla,  the  "  father 
of  Mexican  independence."  A  block  away,  packed 
with  pictures  and  wreathes  and  with  much  of  the  old 
furniture  as  he  left  it,  was  the  house  in  which  he  had 
lived  before  he  started  the  activities  that  ended  in 
the  loss  of  his  head. 

Well  fortified  at  the  excellent  hotel,  I  struck  out 
past  the  patriot  priest's  house  over  an  arched  bridge 
into  the  open  country.  As  in  any  unknown  land,  the 
beginning  of  tramping  was  not  without  a  certain 
mild  misgiving.  The  "  road  "  was  only  a  trail  and 
soon  lost  itself.  A  boy  speaking  good  Spanish 
walked  a  long  mile  to  set  me  right,  and  valued  his 
services  at  a  centato.  A  half-cent  seemed  to  be  the 
fixed  fee  for  anything  among  these  country  people. 
A  peon  carr3'ing  a  load  of  deep-green  alfalfa  de- 
manded as  much  for  the  privilege  of  photographing 
him  when  he  was  "  not  dressed  up."  He  showed  no 
sign  whatever  of  gratitude  when  I  doubled  it  and 
added  a  cigarette. 

The  bright  sun  had  now  turned  the  day  to  early 


4 
I 


TRAMPING  THE  BYWAYS  39 

June.  The  so-called  road  was  a  well-trodden  sandy 
path  between  high  cactus  hedges  over  rolling  country. 
An  hour  ovit,  the  last  look  bark  on  Dolore»  Hidalgo 
showed  also  mile  upon  mile  of  rolling  plain  to  far, 
far  blue  sierras,  all  in  all  perhaps  a  hundred  square 
miles  visible.  There  were  many  travelers,  chiefly  on 
foot  and  carrying  bundles  on  their  heads.  The 
greeting  of  these  was  "  Adios,"  while  the  better-to-do 
class  on  horse  or  mule  back  used  the  customary 
"  Buenas  tardes ! "  .  Thirst  grew,  but  though  the 
country  was  broken,  with  many  wash-outs  cutting 
deep  across  the  trail,  the  streams  were  all  muddy. 
Now  and  then  a  tuna  on  the  cactus  hedges  was  red 
ripe  enough  to  be  worth  picking  and,  though  full  of 
seeds,  was  at  least  wet.  It  was  harder  to  handle 
than  a  porcupine,  and  commonly  left  the  fingers  full 
of  spines.  Two  men  passed,  offering  dulces,  a  species 
of  native  candy,  for  sale.  I  declined.  "  Muy  bien, 
give  us  a  cigarette."  I  declined  again,  being  low  in 
stock.  "  Very  well,  adios,  senor,"  they  replied  in 
the  apathetic  way  of  their  race,  as  if  it  were  quite  as 
satisfactory  to  them  to  get  nothing  as  what  they 
asked. 

The  Rancho  del  Capulin,  where  night  overtook  me, 
was  a  hamlet  of  eight  or  ten  houses,  some  mere  stacks 
of  thatch,  out  of  the  smoky  doorway  of  which,  three 
feet  high,  peered  the  half-naked  inmates ;  others 
of  adobe,  large  bricks  of  mud  and  chopped  straw, 
which  could  be  picked  to  pieces   with  the  fingers. 


40         TRAMPING  THROUGH  MEXICO 

From  one  of  the  kennels  a  woman  called  out  to  know 
if  I  would  eat.  I  asked  if  she  could  give  lodging  also 
and  she  referred  me  to  her  husband  inside.  I  stopped 
to  peer  in  through  the  doorway  and  he  answered 
there  was  not  room  enough  as  it  was,  which  was 
evident  to  the  slowest-witted,  for  the  family  of  six 
or  eight  of  all  ages,  more  or  less  dressed,  lying  and 
squatted  about  the  earth  floor  dipping  their  fingers 
into  bowls  of  steaming  food,  left  not  a  square  foot 
unoccupied.  He  advised  me  to  go  "  beg  license  "  of 
the  "  seiiora  "  of  the  house  farther  on,  a  low  adobe 
building  with  wooden  doors. 

"  There  is  nothing  but  the  place  opposite,"  she 
answered. 

This  was  a  sort  of  mud  cave,  man-made  and  door- 
less,  the  uneven  earth  floor  covered  with  excrement, 
human  and  otherwise.  I  returned  to  peer  into  the 
mat-roofed  yard  with  piles  of  corn-stalks  and  un- 
threshed  beans,  and  met  the  man  of  the  house  just 
arriving  with  his  labor-worn  burros.  He  was  a 
sinewy  peasant  of  about  fifty,  dressed  like  all  country 
peons  in  shirt  and  tight  trousers  of  thinnest  white 
cotton,  showing  his  brown  skin  here  and  there.  As 
he  hesitated  to  give  me  answer,  the  wife  made  frantic 
signs  to  him  from  behind  the  door,  of  which  the 
cracks  were  inches  wide.  He  caught  the  hint  and 
replied  to  my  request  for  lodging : 

"  Only  if  you  pay  me  three  centavos." 

Such  exorbitance !     The  regulation  price  was  per- 


TRAMPING  THE  BYWAYS  41 

haps  one.  But  I  yielded,  for  it  was  raining,  and  en- 
tered, to  sit  down  on  a  heap  of  unthreshed  beans. 
The  woman  brought  rae  a  mat  three  feet  long,  evi- 
dently destined  to  be  my  bed.  I  was  really  in  the 
family  barnyard,  with  no  end  walls,  chickens  over- 
head and  the  burros  beyond.  The  rain  took  to  drip- 
ping through  the  mat  roof,  and  as  I  turned  back 
toward  the  first  hut  for  the  promised  frijoles  and 
tortillas  the  woman  called  to  me  to  say  she  also 
could  furnish  me  supper. 

The  main  room  of  the  house  was  about  ten  by  ten, 
with  mud  walls  five  feet  high,  a  pitched  roof  of  some 
sort  of  grass  with  several  holes  in  it.  In  the  center 
of  the  room  was  a  fireplace  three  feet  high  and  four 
square,  with  several  steaming  glazed  pots  over  a  fire 
of  encinal  fagots.  The  walls  were  black  with  soot 
of  the  smoke  that  partly  wandered  out  of  an  irregu- 
lar hole  in  the  farther  end  of  the  room.  The  eight- 
year-old  son  of  the  family  was  eating  corn-stalks  with 
great  gusto,  tearing  off  the  rind  with  his  teeth  and 
chewing  the  stalk  as  others  do  sugar-cane.  I  handed 
him  a  loaf  of  potosino  bread  and  he  answered  a  per- 
functory "  Gracias,"  but  neither  he  nor  any  of  the 
family  showed  any  evidence  of  gratitude  as  he  wolfed 
it.  The  man  complained  that  all  the  corn  had  dried 
up  for  lack  of  rain.  The  woman  set  before  me  a 
bowl  of  "  sopita,"  M'ith  tortillas,  white  cheese,  and 
boiled  whole  peppers.  A  penniless  peon  traveler 
begged  a  cigarette  and  half  my  morning  loaf,  and 


42         TRAMPING  THROUGH  MEXICO 

went  out  into  the  night  and  rain  to  sleep  in  the 
"  chapel,"  as  the  mud  cave  across  the  way  was  called. 
There  several  travelers  had  settled  down  for  the 
night.  A  girl  of  seventeen  or  so  splashed  across 
from  it  to  beg  "a  jar  of  water  for  a  poor  prosti- 
tute," apparently  announcing  her  calling  merely  as 
a  curious  bit  of  information. 

The  family  took  at  last  to  eating  and  kept  it  up 
a  full  hour,  meanwhile  discussing  me  thoroughly. 
Like  most  untutored  races,  they  fancied  I  could  not 
understand  their  ordinary  tones.  When  they  wished 
to  address  me  they  merely  spoke  louder.  It  is  re- 
markable how  Spain  has  imposed  her  language  on 
even  these  wild,  illiterate  Indians  as  England  has  not 
even  upon  her  colonies.  As  the  rain  continued  to 
pour,  I  was  to  sleep  in  the  kitchen.  Drunken  peons 
were  shouting  outside  and  the  family  seemed  much 
frightened,  keeping  absolute  silence.  The  four  by 
two  door  with  its  six-inch  cracks  was  blocked  with  a 
heavy  pole,  the  family  retired  to  the  other  room,  and 
I  stretched  out  in  the  darkness  on  the  unsteady 
wooden  bench,  a  foot  wide,  my  head  on  my  knapsack. 
I  was  soon  glad  of  having  a  sweater,  but  that  failed 
to  cover  my  legs,  and  I  slept  virtually  not  at  all 
through  a  night  at  least  four  months  long,  punctu- 
ated by  much  howling  of  dogs. 

It  was  still  pitch  dark  when  the  "  senora  "  entered, 
to  spend  a  long  time  getting  a  fire  started  with  wet 
fagots.     Then    she    began    making    atole.     Taking 


TRAMPING  THE  BYWAYS  43 

shelled  corn  from  an  earthen  jar,  she  sprinkled  it  in 
the  hallow  of  a  stone  and  crushed  it  with  much  labor. 
This  was  put  into  water,  strained  through  a  sieve, 
then  thrown  into  a  kettle  of  boiling  water.  It  was 
much  toil  for  little  food.  Already  she  had  labored 
a  full  hour.  I  asked  for  coffee,  and  she  answered 
she  had  none  but  would  buy  some  when  the  "  store  " 
opened.  It  grew  broad  daylight  before  this  hap- 
pened and  I  accepted  atole.  It  was  hot,  but  as  taste- 
less as  might  be  the  water  from  boiled  corn-stalks. 
There  had  been  much  discussion,  supposedly  unknown 
to  me,  the  night  before  as  to  how  much  they  dared 
charge  me.  The  bill  was  finally  set  at  twelve  centa- 
vos  (six  cents),  eight  for  supper,  three  for  lodging, 
and  one  for  breakfast.  It  was  evidently  highly  ex- 
orbitant, for  the  family  expressed  to  each  other  their 
astonishment  that  I  paid  it  without  protest. 

At  the  very  outset  there  was  a  knee-deep  river  to 
cross.  Then  miles  of  a  "  gumbo  "  mud  that  stuck 
like  bad  habits.  My  feet  at  times  weighed  twenty 
pounds  each.  Wild  rocky  hillsides  alternated  with 
breathless  climbs.  Many  cattle  were  scattered  far 
and  wide  over  the  mountains,  but  there  was  no  cul- 
tivation. I  passed  an  occasional  rancho,  villages  of 
six  or  seven  adobe  or  thatch  huts,  with  sometimes  a 
ruined  brick  chapel.  Flowers  bloomed  thickly,  morn- 
ing glories,  geraniums,  masses  of  a  dark  purple  blos- 
som. The  "  road  "  was  either  a  mud-hole  or  a  sharp 
path  of  jagged  rolling  stones  in  a  barren,  rocky, 


44         TRAMPING  THROUGH  MEXICO 

tumbled  country.  Eleven  found  me  entering  another 
rancho  in  a  wild  valley.  My  attempts  to  buy  food 
were  several  times  answered  with,  "  ]\las  arribita  " — 
"  A  little  higher  up."  I  came  at  last  to  the  "  res- 
taurant." It  was  a  cobble-stone  hut  hung  on  a 
sharp  hillside,  with  a  hole  two  feet  square  opening  on 
the  road.  Two  men  in  gay  sarapes,  with  guns  and 
belts  of  huge  cartridges,  reached  it  at  the  same  time, 
and  we  squatted  together  on  the  ground  at  an  angle 
of  the  wall  below  the  window  and  ate  with  much  ex- 
change of  banter  the  food  poked  out  to  us.  The 
two  had  come  that  morning  from  Guanajuato, 
whither  I  was  bound,  and  were  headed  for  Dolores. 
It  was  the  first  time  I  had  any  certain  information 
as  to  the  distance  before  me,  which  had  been  variously 
reported  at  from  five  to  forty  leagues.  We  ate  two 
bowls  of  frijoles  each,  and  many  tortillas  and  chiles. 
One  of  the  men  paid  the  entire  bill  of  twenty-seven 
centavos,  but  accepted  ten  from  me  under  protest. 

Beyond  was  a  great  climb  along  a  stony,  small 
stream  up  into  a  blackish,  rocky  range.  The  sun 
shone  splendidly,  also  hotly.  Apparently  there  was 
no  danger  to  travelers  even  in  these  wild  parts.  The 
peons  I  met  were  astonishingly  zncurious,  barely  ap- 
pearing to  notice  my  existence.  Some  addressed  me 
as  "  jefe"  (chief),  suggesting  the  existence  of  mines 
in  the  vicinity.  If  I  drew  them  into  conversation 
they  answered  merely  in  monosyllables :  "  Si,  senor." 
"  No,  jefe."     Not  a  word  of  Indian  dialect  had  I 


TRAMPING  THE  BYWAYS  45 

heard  since  entering  the  country.  Two  hours  above 
the  restaurant  a  vast  prospect  of  winding,  tumbled, 
rocky  valley  and  mountain  piled  upon  mountain  be- 
yond opened  out.  From  the  summit,  surely  nine 
thousand  feet  up,  began  the  rocky  descent  to  the 
town  of  Santa  Rosa,  broken  by  short  climbs  and 
troublesome  with  rocks.  I  overtook  many  donkeys 
loaded  with  crates  of  cactus  fruit,  railroad  ties,  and 
the  like,  and  finally  at  three  came  out  in  sight  of  the 
famous  mining  city  of  Guanajuato. 

It  would  take  the  pen  of  a  master  to  paint  the 
blue  labyrinth  of  mountains  heaped  up  on  all  sides 
and  beyond  the  long,  winding  city  in  the  narrow 
gorge  far  below,  up  out  of  which  came  with  each 
pufF  of  wind  the  muffled  sound  of  stamp-mills  and 
smelters.  As  I  sat,  the  howling  of  three  drunken 
peons  drifted  up  from  the  road  below.  When  they 
reached  me,  one  of  them,  past  forty,  thrust  his  un- 
washed, pulque-perfumed  face  into  mine  and  de- 
manded a  cigarette.  \^Tien  I  declined,  he  continued 
to  beg  in  a  threatening  manner.  Meanwhile  the 
drunkest  of  the  three,  a  youth  of  perhaps  seventeen, 
large  and  muscular,  an  evil  gleam  in  his  eye,  edged 
his  way  up  to  me  with  one  arm  behind  him  and  added 
his  demands  to  that  of  the  other.  I  suddenly  pulled 
the  hidden  hand  into  sight  and  found  in  it  a  sharp 
broken  piece  of  rock  weighing  some  ten  pounds. 
Having  knocked  this  out  of  his  grasp,  I  laid  my  au- 
tomatic across  my  knees  and  the  more  sober  pair 


46         TRAMPING  THROUGH  MEXICO 

dragged  the  belligerent  youth  on  up  the  mountain 
trail. 

For  an  hour  the  way  wound  down  by  steep,  hor- 
ribly cobbled  descents,  then  between  mud  and  stone 
huts,  and  finally  down  a  more  level  and  wider  cobbled 
street  along  which  were  the  rails  of  a  mule  tramway. 
The  narrow  city  wound  for  miles  along  the  bottom  of 
a  deep  gully,  gay  everywhere  with  perennial  flowers. 
The  main  avenue  ran  like  a  stream  along  the  bottom, 
and  he  who  lost  himself  in  the  stair-like  side  streets 
had  only  to  follow  downward  to  find  it  again  as 
surely  as  a  tributary  its  main  river.  Masses  of 
rocky  mountains  were  piled  up  on  all  sides. 

The  climate  of  Guanajuato  is  unsurpassed. 
Brilliant  sunshine  flooded  days  like  our  early  June, 
in  which  one  must  hurry  to  sweat  in  the  noon  time, 
while  two  blankets  made  comfortable  covering  at 
night.  This  is  true  of  not  only  one  season  but  the 
year  around,  during  which  the  thermometer  does  not 
vary  ten  degrees.  July  is  coldest  and  a  fireplace  not 
uncomfortable  in  the  evening.  An  American  resi- 
dent who  went  home  to  one  of  the  States  bordering 
on  Canada  for  his  vacation  sat  wiping  the  sweat  out 
of  his  eyes  there,  when  one  of  his  untraveled  coun- 
trymen observed: 

"  You  must  feel  very  much  at  home  in  this  heat 
after  nine  years  in  Mexico." 

Whereupon  the  sufferer  arose  in  disgust,  packed 
his  bag,  and  sped  south  to  mosquitoless  coolness. 


l''ellu\v-roiuLstL'r.i  iii  ]\Icxico 


Some  of  the  pigeon-holes  of  Guanajuato's  cemetery 


TRAMPING  THE  BYWAYS  49 

The  evening  air  is  indescribable ;  all  nature's 
changes  of  striking  beauty ;  and  the  setting  sun 
throwing  its  last  rays  on  the  Bufa,  the  salient  points 
of  that  and  the  other  peaks  purple  with  light,  with 
the  valleys  in  deep  shadow,  is  a  sight  worth  tramping 
far  to  see. 

I  drifted  down  along  the  gully  next  morning,  fol- 
lowing the  main  street,  which  changed  direction  every 
few  yards,  "  paved "  with  three-inch  cobbles,  the 
sidewalks  two  feet  wide,  leaving  one  pedestrian  to 
jump  off  it  each  time  two  met.  A  diminutive  street- 
car drawn  by  mules  with  jingling  bells  passed  now 
and  then.  Peons  swarmed  here  also,  but  there  was 
by  no  means  the  abject  poverty  of  San  Luis  Potosi, 
and  Americans  seemed  in  considerable  favor,  as  their 
mines  in  the  vicinity  give  the  town  its  livelihood.  I 
was  seeking  the  famous  old  "  Alondiga,"  but  the  po- 
liceman I  asked  began  looking  at  the  names  of  the 
shops  along  the  way  as  if  he  fancied  it  some  tobacco 
booth.  I  tried  again  by  designating  it  as  "  la  car- 
)tl."  He  still  shook  his  head  sadly.  But  when  I 
described  it  as  the  place  where  Father  Hidalgo's  head 
hung  on  a  hook  for  thirteen  years,  a  great  light  broke 
suddenly  upon  him  and  he  at  once  abandoned  his 
beat  and  led  me  several  blocks,  refusing  to  be  shaken 
off.  What  I  first  took  for  extreme  courtesy,  how- 
ever, turned  out  to  be  merely  the  quest  of  tips,  an 
activity  in  which  the  police  of  most  Mexican  cities 
are  scarcely  outdone  by  the  waiters  along  Broadway. 


50         TRAMPING  THROUGH  MEXICO 

The  ancient  building  was  outwardly  plain  and 
nearly  square,  more  massive  than  the  rest  of  the  city. 
High  up  on  each  of  its  corners  under  the  rusted 
hooks  were  the  names  of  the  four  early  opponents  to 
Spanish  rule  whose  heads  had  once  hung  there.  In- 
side the  corridor  stood  the  statue  of  the  peon  who  is 
said  to  have  reached  and  fired  the  building  under 
cover  of  the  huge  slab  of  stone  on  his  back.  When  I 
had  waited  a  while  in  the  anteroom,  the  jefe  politico, 
the  supreme  commander  of  the  city  appointed  by  the 
governor  of  the  State,  appeared,  the  entire  roomful 
of  officials  and  visitors  dropping  their  cigarettes  and 
rising  to  greet  him  with  bared  heads.  He  gave  me 
permission  to  enter,  and  the  presidente,  a  podgy  sec- 
ond jailor,  took  me  in  charge  as  the  iron  door  opened 
to  let  me  in.  The  walls  once  red  with  the  blood  of 
Spaniards  slaughtered  by  the  forces  of  the  priest  of 
Dolores  had  lost  that  tint  in  the  century  since  passed, 
and  were  smeared  with  nothing  more  startling  than  a 
certain  lack  of  cleanliness.  The  immense,  three- 
story,  stone  building  of  colonial  days  enclosed  a  vast 
patio  in  which  prisoners  seemed  to  enjoy  complete 
freedom,  lying  about  the  yard  in  the  brilliant  sun- 
shine, playing  cards,  or  washing  themselves  and  their 
scanty  clothing  in  the  huge  stone  fountain  in  the 
center.  The  so-called  cells  in  which  they  were  shut 
up  in  groups  during  the  night  were  large  chambers 
that  once  housed  the  colonial  government.  By  day 
many  of  them  work  at  weaving  hats,  baskets,  brushes, 


TRAMPING  THE  BYWAYS  51 

and  the  like,  to  sell  for  their  own  benefit,  thus  being 
able  to  order  food  from  outside  and  avoid  the  mess 
brought  in  barrels  at  two  and  seven  of  each  after- 
noon for  those  dependent  on  government  rations. 
Now  and  then  a  wife  or  feminine  friend  of  one  of  the 
prisoners  appeared  at  the  grating  with  a  basket  of 
food.  Several  of  the  inmates  were  called  one  by  one 
to  the  crack  of  an  iron  door  in  the  wall  to  hear  the 
sentence  the  judge  had  chosen  to  impose  upon  them 
in  the  quiet  of  his  own  home;  for  public  jury  trial 
is  not  customary  in  Spanish  America. 

In  the  fine  gallery  around  the  patio,  in  the  second- 
story,  we  were  joined  by  an  American  from  Colorado, 
charged  with  killing  a  IMcxican,  but  who  seemed 
little  worried  with  his  present  condition  or  doubtful 
of  his  ultimate  release.  From  the  flat  roof,  large 
enough  for  a  school  playground,  there  spread  out  a 
splendid  view  of  all  the  city  and  its "  surrounding 
mountains.  There  were,  all  told,  some  five  hundred 
prisoners.  A  room  opening  on  the  patio  served  as 
a  school  for  convicts,  where  a  man  well  advanced  in 
years,  bewhiskered  and  of  a  decidedly  pedagogical 
cast  of  countenance  in  spite  of  his  part  Indian  blood, 
sat  on  his  back,  peering  dreamily  through  his  glasses 
at  the  seventy  or  more  pupils,  chiefly  between  the 
ages  of  fifteen  and  twenty,  who  drowsed  before  him. 

There  is  a  no  less  fine  view  from  the  hill  behind,  on 
which  sits  the  Panteon,  or  city  cemetery.  It  is  a 
rectangular  place  enclosing  perhaps  three  acres,  and. 


52         TRAMPING  THROUGH  MEXICO 

as  all  Guanajuato  has  been  buried  here  for  centuries, 
considerably  crowded.  For  this  reason  and  from 
inherited  Spanish  custom,  bodies  are  seldom  buried, 
but  are  pigeonholed  away  in  the  deep  nitches  two 
feet  square  into  what  from  the  outside  looks  to  be 
merely  the  enclosing  wall.  Here,  in  more  exact  or- 
der than  prevails  in  life,  the  dead  of  Guanajuato  are 
filed  in  series,  each  designated  by  a  number.  Series 
six  was  new  and  not  yet  half  occupied.  A  funeral 
ends  by  thrusting  the  coffin  into  its  appointed  pigeon- 
hole, which  the  Indian  employees  brick  up  and  face 
with  cement,  in  which  while  still  soft  the  name  of  the 
defunct  and  other  information  is  commonly  rudely 
scratched  with  a  stick,  often  with  amateur  spelling. 
Here  and  there  is  one  in  English :  — "  ]\Iy  Father's 
Servant  —  H.  B."  Some  have  marble  headpieces 
with  engraved  names,  and  perhaps  a  third  of  the 
nitches  bear  the  information  "  En  Perpetuidad,"  in- 
dicating that  the  rent  has  been  paid  up  until  judg- 
ment day.  The  majority  of  the  corpses,  however, 
are  dragged  out  after  one  to  five  years  and  dumped 
in  the  common  bone-yard,  as  in  all  Spanish-speaking 
countries.  The  Indian  attendants  were  even  then 
opening  several  in  an  older  series  and  tossing  skulls 
and  bones  about  amid  facetious  banter.  The  lower 
four  rows  can  be  reached  readily,  but  not  a  few  suf- 
fer the  pain  of  being  "  skied,"  where  only  those  who 
chance  to  glance  upward  will  notice  them. 

There  were  some  graves  in  the  ground,  evidently 


TRAMPING  THE  BYWAYS  53 

of  the  poorer  Indian  classes.  Several  had  been  newly 
dug,  unearthing  former  occupants,  and  a  grinning 
skull  sat  awry  on  a  heap  of  earth  amid  a  few  thigh 
bones  and  scattered  ribs,  all  trodden  under  sandaled 
foot-prints.  In  one  hole  lay  the  thick  black  hair  of 
what  had  once  been  a  peon,  as  intact  as  any  actor's 
wig.  There  is  some  property  in  the  soil  of  Guana- 
juato's Panteon  that  preserves  bodies  buried  in  the 
ground  without  coffins,  so  that  its  "  mummies  "  have 
become  famous.  The  director  attended  me  in  person 
and,  crossing  the  enclosure,  opened  a  door  in  the 
ground  near  the  fourth  series  of  nitches,  where  we 
descended  a  little  circular  iron  stairway.  This 
opened  on  a  high  vaulted  corridor,  six  feet  wide  and 
thirty  long.  Along  this,  behind  glass  doors,  stood 
some  hundred  more  or  less  complete  bodies  shrouded 
in  sheets.  They  retained,  or  had  been  arranged,  in 
the  same  form  they  had  presented  in  life  —  peon  car- 
riers bent  as  if  still  under  a  heavy  burden,  old  market 
women  in  the  act  of  haggling,  arrieros  plodding  be- 
hind their  imaginary  burros.  Some  had  their  mouths 
wide  open,  as  if  they  had  been  buried  alive  and  had 
died  shouting  for  release.  One  fellow  stood  leaning 
against  a  support,  like  a  man  joking  with  an  elbow 
on  the  bar,  a  glass  between  his  fingers,  in  the  act  of 
laughing  uproariously.  Several  babies  had  been 
placed  upright  here  and  there  between  the  elders. 
Most  of  the  corpses  wore  old  dilapidated  shoes.  In 
the  farther  end  of  the  corridor  were  stacked  thigh- 


54        TRAMPING  THROUGPI  MEXICO 

bones  and  skulls  surely  sufficient  to  fill  two  box-cars, 
all  facing  to  the  front.  I  asked  how  many  deaths 
the  collection  represented,  and  the  director  shrugged 
his  shoulders  with  an  indifferent  "  Quien  sabe  ?  "  He 
who  would  understand  the  Mexican,  descendant  of 
the  Aztecs,  must  not  overlook  a  certain  apathetic 
indifference  to  death,  and  a  playful  manner  with  its 
remains. 

Once  on  earth  again,  I  gave  the  director  a  hand- 
ful of  coppers  and  descended  to  the  town,  motley  now 
with  market-day.  The  place  swarmed  with  color ; 
ragged,  unwashed  males  and  females  squatted  on  the 
narrow  sidewalks  with  fruit,  sweets,  gay  blankets  and 
clothing,  cast-off  shoes  and  garments,  piles  of  new 
sandals,  spread  out  in  the  street  before  them.  Amid 
the  babel  of  street  cries  the  most  persistent  was 
"  Agua-miel!  " — "  Honey  water,"  as  the  juice  of  the 
maguey  Is  called  during  the  twelve  hours  before  fer- 
mentation sets  in.  From  twelve  to  thirty-six  hours 
after  its  drawing  it  is  intoxicating;  from  then  on, 
only  fit  to  be  thrown  away.  But  the  sour  stench 
from  each  pulqueria  and  many  a  passing  peon  proved 
a  forced  longevity.  Several  lay  drunk  in  the  streets, 
but  passers-by  stepped  over  or  around  them  with  the 
air  of  those  who  do  as  they  hope  to  be  done  by. 
Laughter  was  rare,  the  great  majority  being  exceed- 
ingly somber  in  manner.  Even  their  songs  are 
gloomy  wails,  recalling  the  Arabs.  A  few  children 
played  at  "  bull-fight,"  and  here  and  there  two  or 


TRAMPING  THE  BYWAYS  55 

three,  thanks  to  the  American  influence,  were  en- 
gaged in  what  they  fancied  was  baseball.  But  for 
the  most  part  they  were  not  playful.  The  young 
of  both  Indians  and  donkeys  are  trained  early  for 
the  life  before  them.  The  shaggy  little  ass-colts  fol- 
low their  mothers  over  the  cobbled  streets  and  along 
mountain  trails  from  birth,  and  the  peon  children, 
wearing  the  same  huge  hat,  gay  sarape,  and  tight 
breeches  as  their  fathers,  or  the  identical  garb  of  the 
mothers,  carry  their  share  of  the  family  burden  al- 
most from  infancy.  Everything  of  whatever  size 
or  shape  was  carried  on  the  backs  or  heads  of  In- 
dians with  a  supporting  strap  across  the  forehead. 
A  peon  passed  bearing  on  his  head  the  corpse  of  a 
baby  in  an  open  wooden  coflSn,  scattered  with  flowers. 
Trunks  of  full  size  are  transported  in  this  way  to  all 
parts  of  the  mountain  town,  and  the  Indian  who  car- 
ries the  heaviest  of  them  to  a  mine  ten  miles  away 
and  two  thousand  feet  above  the  city  over  the  rocki- 
est trails  considers  himself  well  paid  at  thirty  cents. 
Six  peons  dog-trotted  by  from  the  municipal  slaugh- 
ter-house with  a  steer  on  their  backs :  four  carried  a 
quarter  each ;  one  the  head  and  skin ;  and  the  last, 
heart,  stomach,  and  intestines.  Horseshoers  worked 
in  the  open  streets,  using  whatever  shoes  they  had 
on  hand  without  adjustment,  paring  down  the  hoofs 
of  the  animal  to  fit  them.  Here  and  there  a  police- 
man on  his  beat  was  languidly  occupied  in  making 
brushes,  like  the  prisoners  of  the  Alondiga,  and  two 


56        TRAMPING  THROUGH  MEXICO 

I  saw  whiling  away  the  time  making  lace!  Several 
of  them  tagged  my  footsteps,  eager  for  some  errand. 
One  feels  no  great  sense  of  security  in  a  country 
whose  boyish,  uneducated,  and  ragged  guardians  of 
order  cringe  around  like  beggar  boys  hoping  for  a 
copper. 

Saturday  is  beggar's  day,  when  those  who  seek 
alms  more  or  less  surreptitiously  during  the  week  are 
permitted  to  pass  in  procession  along  the  shops, 
many  of  which  disburse  on  this  day  a  fixed  sum,  as 
high  as  twenty  dollars,  in  copper  centavos.  Now 
and  then  the  mule-cars  bowled  over  a  laden  ass, 
which  sat  up  calmly  on  its  haunches,  front  feet  in  the 
air,  until  the  obstruction  passed.  All  those  of  In- 
dian blood  were  notable  for  their  strong  white  teeth, 
not  one  of  which  they  seem  ever  to  lose.  In  the 
church  a  bit  higher  up  several  bedraggled  women  and 
pulque-besotted  peons  knelt  before  a  disgusting  rep- 
resentation of  the  Crucifixion.  The  figure  had  real 
hair,  beard,  eyebrows,  and  even  eyelashes,  with  sev- 
eral mortal  wounds,  barked  knees  and  shins,  half  the 
body  smeared  with  red  paint  as  blood,  all  in  all  fit 
only  for  the  morgue.  Farther  on,  drowsed  the  post- 
oflice,  noted  like  all  south  of  the  Rio  Grande  for  its 
unreliability.  Unregistered  packages  seldom  arrive 
at  their  destination,  groceries  sent  from  the  States  to 
American  residents  are  at  least  half  eaten  en  route. 
A  man  of  the  North  unacquainted  with  the  ways  of 
Mexico  sent  unregistered  a  Christmas  present  of  a 


a  4 

^^^^^^BB^ES^^K.  iFMMHI^nH  M  Jt'-' 

s 

i  p 

Iki 

^•m 

A  fAilque  street-stand  and  one  of  its  clients 


1 

H  Mf  t^^iiS^^^B^B^I 

1  -t7i-*'':  ri 

Prisoners  washing  in  the  patio  of  the  former  "A16ndiga" 


TRAMPING  THE  BYWAYS  59 

dozen  pairs  of  silk  socks.  The  addressee  inquired 
for  them  daily  for  weeks.  Finally  he  wrote  for  a 
detailed  description  of  the  hectic  lost  property,  and 
had  no  difficulty  in  recognizing  at  least  two  pairs  as 
the  beak-nosed  officials  hitched  up  their  trousers  to 
tell  him  again  nothing  whatever  had  come  for  him. 
Not  long  before  my  arrival  a  Mexican  mail-car  had 
been  wrecked,  and  between  the  ceiling  and  the  outer 
wall  were  found  over  forty  thousand  letters  postal 
clerks  had  opened  and  thrown  there. 

I  drifted  into  an  "  Escuela  Gratulta  para  Ninos." 
The  heavy,  barn-like  door  gave  entrance  to  a  cobbled 
corridor,  opening  on  a  long  schoolroom  with  two  rows 
of  hard  wooden  benches  on  which  were  seated  a  half 
hundred  little  peons  aged  seven  to  ten,  all  raggedly 
dressed  in  the  identical  garb,  sandals  and  all,  of  their 
fathers  in  the  streets,  their  huge  straw  hats  covering 
one  of  the  walls.  The  maestro,  a  small,  down-trod- 
den-looking  IMexican,  rushed  to  the  door  to  bring  me 
down  to  the  front  and  provide  me  with  a  chair.  The 
school  had  been  founded  some  six  months  before  by 
a  woman  of  wealth,  and  offered  free  instruction  to 
the  sons  of  peons.  But  the  Indians  as  always  were 
suspicious,  and  for  the  most  part  refused  to  allow 
their  children  to  be  taught  the  "  witchcraft  "  of  the 
white  man.  The  teacher  asked  what  class  I  cared  to 
hear  and  then  himself  hastily  suggested  "  cuentitas." 
The  boys  were  quick  at  figures,  at  least  in  the  ex- 
amples the  maestro  chose  to  give  them,  but  he  de- 


60         TRAMPING  THROUGH  MEXICO 

clined  to  show  them  off  in  writing  or  spelling.  Sev- 
eral read  aloud,  in  that  mumbled  and  half-pronounced 
manner  common  to  Mexico,  the  only  requirement  ap- 
pearing to  be  speed.  Then  came  a  class  in  "  His- 
toria  Santa,"  that  is,  various  of  the  larger  boys  arose 
to  spout  at  full  gallop  and  the  distinct  enunciation  of 
an  "  El  "  train,  the  biblical  account  of  the  creation 
of  the  world,  the  legends  of  Adam  and  Eve,  Cain  and 
Abel,  and  Noah's  travels  with  a  menagerie,  all  learned 
by  rote.  The  entire  school  then  arose  and  bowed 
me  out. 

A  visit  to  a  mixed  school,  presided  over  by  care- 
lessly dressed  maidens  of  uncertain  age  and  the  all- 
knowing  glance  of  those  who  feel  the  world  and  all  its 
knowledge  lies  concentrated  in  the  hollow  of  their 
hands,  showed  a  quite  similar  method  of  instruction. 
On  the  wall  hung  a  great  lithograph  depicting  in  all 
its  dreadful  details  the  alleged  horrors  of  "  alcool- 
ismo."  Even  the  teachers  rattled  off  their  questions 
with  an  atrocious,  half-enunciated  pronunciation, 
and  he  must  have  been  a  Spanish  scholar  indeed  who 
could  have  caught  more  than  the  gist  of  the  recited 
answers.  This  indistinctness  of  enunciation  and  the 
Catholic  system  of  learning  by  rote  instead  of  per- 
mitting the  development  of  individual  power  to  think, 
were  as  marked  even  in  the  colegio,  corresponding 
roughly  to  our  high  schools.  Even  there  the  profes- 
sor never  commanded,  "  More  distinctly ! "  but  he 
frequently  cried,  "  Faster  !  " 


TRAMPING  THE  BYWAYS  61 

On  the  wall  of  this  higher  institution  was  a  stern 
set  of  rules,  among  which  some  of  the  most  important 
were: 

*'  Students  must  not  smoke  in  the  presence  of  pro- 
fessors," though  this  was  but  mildly  observed,  for 
when  I  entered  the  study  room  with  the  director  and 
his  assistant,  all  of  us  smoking,  the  boys,  averaging 
fifteen  years  of  age,  merely  held  their  lighted  cigar- 
ettes half  out  of  sight  behind  them  until  we  passed. 
Another  rule  read :  "  Any  student  frequenting  a 
tavern,  cafe  chantant,  or  house  of  ill-fame  may  be 
expelled."  He  might  run  that  risk  in  most  schools, 
but  none  but  the  Latinized  races  would  announce  the 
fact  in  plain  words  on  the  bulletin-boards.  The  di- 
rector complained  that  the  recent  revolutions  had  set 
the  school  far  back,  as  each  government  left  it  to  the 
next  to  provide  for  such  secondary  necessities. 


CHAPTER  III 


IN    A    MEXICAN    MINE 


A  CLASSMATE  of  my  boyhood  was  superin- 
tendent of  the  group  of  mines  round  about 
Guanajuato.  From  among  them  we  chose  "  Pingii- 
ico  "  for  my  temporary  employment.  The  ride  to  it, 
8200  feet  above  the  sea,  up  along  and  out  of  the  gully 
in  which  Guanajuato  is  built,  and  by  steep  rocky 
trails  sometimes  beside  sheer  mountain  walls,  opens 
out  many  a  marvelous  vista ;  but  none  to  compare 
with  that  from  the  office  veranda  of  the  mine  itself. 
Two  thousand  feet  below  lies  a  plain  of  Mexico's 
great  table-land,  stretching  forty  miles  or  more 
across  to  where  it  is  shut  ofF  by  an  endless  range  of 
mountains,  backed  by  chain  after  blue  chain,  each 
cutting  the  sky-line  in  more  jagged,  fantastic  fashion 
than  the  rest,  the  farther  far  beyond  Guadalajara 
and  surely  more  than  a  hundred  miles  distant,  where 
Mexico  falls  away  into  the  Pacific.  On  the  left  rises 
deep-blue  into  the  sky  the  almost  perfect  flattened 
cone  of  a  lone  mountain.  Brilliant,  yet  not  hot,  sun- 
shine  illuminated   even   the    far   horizon,    and   little 

cloud-shadows    crawled   here    and   there    across    the 

62 


IN  A  MEXICAN  MINE  63 

landscape.  The  rainy  season  had  left  on  the  plain 
below  many  shallow  lakes  that  reflected  the  sun  like 
immense  mirrors.  From  the  veranda  it  seemed  quite 
flat,  though  in  reality  by  no  means  so,  and  one  could 
all  but  count  the  windows  of  Silao,  Irapuato,  and 
other  towns ;  the  second,  though  more  than  twenty 
miles  away,  still  in  the  back  foreground  of  the  pic- 
ture. Thread-like,  brown  trails  wound  away  over 
the  plain  and  up  into  tlie  mountains,  here  and  there 
dotted  by  travelers  crawling  ant-like  along  them  a 
few  inches  ah  hour.  Take  the  most  perfect  day  of 
late  May  or  early  June  in  our  North,  brush  off  the 
clouds,  make  the  air  many  times  fresher  and  clearer, 
add  October  nights,  and  multiply  the  sum  total  by 
865,  and  it  is  more  easily  understood  why  Americans 
who  settle  in  the  Guanajuato  region  so  frequently  re- 
main there. 

The  room  I  shared  with  a  mine  boss  was  of  chilly 
stone  walls  and  floor,  large  and  square,  with  a  rug, 
two  beds,  and  the  bare  necessities.  The  mine  mess, 
run  by  a  Chinaman,  furnished  meals  much  like  those 
of  a  25-cent  restaurant  in  Texas,  at  the  rate  of  $5 
a  week.  No  Mexican  was  permitted  to  eat  with  the 
Americans,  not  even  with  the  "  rough-necks."  When 
the  whistle  blew  at  seven  next  morning,  some  forty 
peons,  who  had  straggled  one  by  one  in  the  dawn  to 
huddle  up  together  in  their  red  sarapes  among  the 
rocks  of  the  drab  hillside,  marched  past  the  time- 
keeper, turning  over  their  blankets  at  a  check  coun- 


64         TRAMPING  THROUGH  MEXICO 

ter,  and  with  their  lunches,  of  the  size  of  the  round 
tortilla  at  the  bottom  and  four  to  six  inches  high, 
in  their  handkerchiefs,  climbed  into  the  six-foot, 
iron  ore-bucket  until  it  was  completely  roofed  with 
their  immense  straw  hats.  Near  by  those  of  the 
second  night-shift,  homeward  bound,  halted,  to  stand 
one  by  one  on  a  wooden  block  with  outstretched  arms 
to  be  carefully  searched  for  stolen  ore  by  a  tried  and 
trusted  fellow-peon.  A  pocketful  of  "  high-grade  " 
might  be  worth  several  dollars.  The  American 
"  jefe  "  sat  in  the  hoisthouse,  writing  out  requisitions 
for  candles,  d3'namite,  and  kindred  supplies  for  the 
"  jefecitos,"  or  straw  bosses,  of  the  hundred  or  more 
peons  still  lined  up  before  the  shaft.  With  the  last 
batch  of  these  in  the  bucket,  we  white  men  stepped 
upon  the  platform  below  it  and  dropped  suddenly 
into  the  black  depths  of  the  earth,  with  now  and  then 
a  stone  easily  capable  of  cracking  a  skull  bounding 
swiftly  with  a  hollow  sound  past  us  back  and  forth 
across  the  shaft. 

Not  infrequently  in  the  days  to  come  some  accident 
to  the  hoist-engine  above  left  us  to  stand  an  hour  or 
more  packed  tightlj'  together  in  our  suspended  four- 
foot  space  in  unmitigated  darkness.  For  this  and 
other  reasons  no  peon  was  ever  permitted  to  ride  on 
the  platform  with  an  American.  Twelve  hundred 
feet  down  we  stepped  out  into  a  winding,  rock  gallery 
nearly  six  feet  wide  and  high,  where  fourteen  natives 
were  loading  rock  and  mud  into  iron  dump-cars  and 


IN  A  MEXICAN  MINE  65 

pushing  them  to  a  near-by  chute.  Even  at  this 
depth  flies  were  thick.  A  facetious  boss  asserted 
they  hatched  on  the  peons.  My  task  here  was  to 
"  sacar  muestras  " — "  take  samples,"  as  it  was  called 
in  English.  From  each  car  as  it  passed  I  snatched 
a  handful  of  mud  and  small  broken  rock  and  thrust 
it  into  a  sack  that  later  went  to  the  assay  office  to 
show  what  grade  of  ore  the  vein  was  producing. 

Once  an  hour  I  descended  to  a  hole  far  beneath  by 
a  rope  ladder,  life  depending  on  a  spike  driven  in  the 
rock  above  and  a  secure  handhold,  for  the  handful  of 
"  pay  dirt  "  two  peons  were  grubbing  down  out  of  a 
lower  veta^  a  long  narrow  alleyway  of  soft  earth  and 
small  stones  that  stretched  away  into  the  interior  of 
the  mountain  between  solid  walls  of  rock.  No  inex- 
perienced man  would  have  supposed  this  mud  worth 
more  than  any  other.  But  silver  does  not  come  out 
of  the  earth  in  minted  dollars. 

In  the  mine  the  peons  wore  their  hats,  a  consider- 
able protection  against  falling  rocks,  but  were  other- 
wise naked  but  for  their  sandals  and  a  narrow  strip 
of  once  white  cloth  between  their  legs,  held  by  a  string 
around  the  waist.  Some  were  well-built,  though  all 
were  small,  and  in  the  concentrated  patch  of  light  the 
play  of  their  muscles  through  the  light-brown  skins 
was  fascinating.  Working  thus  naked  seemed  so 
much  more  dangerous ;  the  human  form  appeared  so 
much  more  feeble  and  soft,  delving  unclothed  in  the 
fathomless,  rocky  earth.     Many  a  man  was  marked 


66         TRAMPING  THROUGH  MEXICO 

here  and  there  with  long  deep  scars.  It  was  notice- 
able how  character,  habits,  dissipation,  which  show 
so  plainly  in  the  face,  left  but  little  sign  on  the  rest 
of  the  body,  which  remained  for  the  most  part  smooth 
and  unwrinkled. 

The  peons  were  more  than  careless.  All  day  long 
dynamite  was  tossed  carelessly  back  and  forth  about 
me.  A  man  broke  up  three  or  four  sticks  of  it  at  a 
time,  wrapped  them  in  paper,  and  beat  the  mass  into 
the  form  of  a  ball  on  a  rock  at  my  feet.  Miners 
grow  so  accustomed  to  this  that  they  note  it,  if  at 
all,  with  complete  indifference,  often  working  and 
serenely  smoking  seated  on  several  hundred  pounds 
of  explosives.  One  peon  of  forty  in  this  gang  had 
lost  his  entire  left  arm  in  a  recent  explosion,  yet  he 
handled  the  dangerous  stuff  as  carelessly  as  ever. 
Several  others  were  mutilated  in  lesser  degrees. 
They  depend  on  charms  and  prayers  to  their  favor- 
ite saint  rather  than  on  their  own  precautions. 
Every  few  minutes  the  day  through  came  the  cry: 
"  'Sta  pegado ! "  that  sent  us  skurrying  a  few  feet 
away  until  a  dull,  deafening  explosion  brought  down 
a  new  section  of  the  vein.  Not  long  before,  there  had 
been  a  cave-in  just  beyond  where  we  were  working, 
and  the  several  men  imprisoned  there  had  not  been 
rescued,  so  that  now  and  then  a  skull  and  portions 
of  skeleton  came  down  with  the  rock.  The  peons  had 
first  balked  at  this,  but  the  superintendent  had  told 
them  the  bones  were  merely  strange  shapes  of  ore, 


r 


Drilling  with  compressed-air  drills  in  a  mine  "heading" 


As  each  car  passed  I  snatched  a  sample  of  its  ore 


IN  A  MEXICAN  MINE  69 

ordered  them  to  break  up  the  skulls  and  throw 
them  in  with  the  rest,  and  threatened  to  discharge  and 
blackball  any  man  who  talked  of  the  matter. 

By  law  a  Mexican  injured  in  the  mine  could  not 
be  treated  on  the  spot,  but  must  be  first  carried  to 
Guanajuato  —  often  dying  on  the  way  —  to  be  ex- 
amined by  the  police  and  then  brought  back  to  the 
mine  hospital.  Small  hurts  were  of  slight  impor- 
tance to  the  peons.  During  my  first  hour  below,  a 
muddy  rock  fell  down  the  front  of  a  laborer,  scrap- 
ing the  skin  off  his  nose,  deeply  scratching  his  chest 
and  thighs,  and  causing  his  toes  to  bleed,  but  he 
merely  swore  a  few  round  oaths  and  continued  his 
work.  The  hospital  doctors  asserted  that  the  peon 
has  not  more  than  one  fourth  the  physical  sensitive- 
ness of  civilized  persons.  Many  a  one  allowed  a 
finger  to  be  amputated  without  a  word,  and  as  chloro- 
form is  expensive  the  surgeon  often  replaced  it  with 
a  long  draught  of  mescal  or  tequila,  the  native 
whiskies. 

Outwardly  the  peons  were  very  deferential  to  white 
men.  I  could  rarely  get  a  sentence  from  them, 
though  they  chattered  much  among  themselves,  with 
a  constant  sprinkling  of  obscenity.  They  had  a  com- 
plete language  of  whistles  by  which  they  warned  each 
other  of  an  approaching  *'jefe,"  exchanged  varied 
information,  and  even  entered  into  discussion  of  the 
alleged  characteristics  of  their  superiors  in  their 
very  presence  without  being  understood  by  the  un- 


70         TRAMPING  THROUGH  MEXICO 

initiated.  Frequently,  too,  amid  the  rumble  of  the 
**  veta  madre  "  pouring  down  her  treasures,  some  for- 
mer Broadway  favorite  that  had  found  its  way  grad- 
ually to  the  theater  of  Guanajuato  sounded  weirdly 
through  the  gallery,  as  it  was  whistled  by  some  naked 
peon  behind  a  loaded  car.  A  man  speaking  only  the 
pure  Castilian  would  have  had  some  difficulty  in  un- 
derstanding many  of  the  mine  terms.  Many  Indian 
words  had  crept  into  the  common  language,  such  as 
"  chiquihuite  "  for  basket. 

Some  seventy-five  cars  passed  me  during  the  morn- 
ing. Under  supervision  the  peons  worked  at  moder- 
ately good  speed ;  indeed,  they  compared  rather  fa- 
vorably with  the  rough  American  laborers  with  whom 
I  had  recently  toiled  in  railroad  gangs,  in  a  stone- 
quarry  of  Oklahoma,  and  the  cotton-fields  of  Texas. 
The  endurance  of  these  fellows  living  on  corn  and 
beans  is  remarkable ;  they  were  as  superior  to  the 
Oriental  coolie  as  their  wages  to  the  latter's  eight  or 
ten  cents  a  day.  In  this  case,  as  the  world  over,  the 
workmen  earned  about  what  he  was  paid,  or  rather 
succeeded  in  keeping  his  capacity  down  to  the  wages 
paid  him.  Many  galleries  of  the  mine  were  "  worked 
on  contract,"  and  almost  all  gangs  had  their  self- 
chosen  leader.  A  peon  with  a  bit  more  standing  in 
the  community  than  his  fellows,  wearing  something 
or  other  to  suggest  his  authority  and  higher  place  in 
the  world  —  such  perhaps  as  the  pink  shirt  the 
haughty  "jefecito"  beside  me  sported  —  appeared 


IN  A  MEXICAN  MINE  71 

with  twelve  or  more  men  ready  for  work  and  was 
given  a  section  and  paid  enough  to  give  his  men  from 
fifty  to  eighty  cents  a  day  each  and  have  something 
over  a  dollar  left  for  himself.  Miners'  wages  vary 
much  throughout  Mexico,  from  twelve  dollars  a 
month  to  two  a  day  in  places  no  insuperable  distances 
apart.  Conditions  also  differ  greatly,  according  to 
my  experienced  compatriots.  The  striking  and 
booting  of  the  workmen,  common  in  some  mines,  was 
never  permitted  in  "  Pinguico."  In  Pachuca,  for  ex- 
ample, this  was  said  to  be  the  universal  practice ; 
while  in  the  mines  of  Chihuahua  it  would  have  been 
as  dangerous  as  to  do  the  same  thing  to  a  stick  of 
dynamite.  Here  the  peon's  manner  was  little  short 
of  obsequious  outwardly,  yet  one  had  the  feeling  that 
in  crowds  they  were  capable  of  making  trouble  and 
those  who  had  fallen  upon  "  gringoes  "  in  the  region 
had  despatched  their  victims  thoroughly,  leaving  them 
mutilated  and  robbed  even  of  their  clothing.  The 
charming  part  of  it  all  was  one  could  never  know 
which  of  these  slinking  fellows  was  a  bandit  by  avoca- 
tion and  saving  up  his  unvented  anger  for  the  boss 
who  ordered  him  about  at  his  labors. 

It  felt  pleasant,  indeed,  to  bask  in  the  sun  a  half 
hour  after  dinner  before  descending  again.  Toward 
five  I  tied  and  tagged  the  sacks  of  samples  and  fol- 
lowed them,  on  peon  backs,  to  the  shaft  and  to  the 
world  above  with  its  hot  and  cold  shower-bath,  and 
the  Chinaman's  promise,  thanks  to  the  proximity  of 


72         TRA^IPING  THROUGH  MEXICO 

Irapuato,  of  "  stlaybelly  pie."  Though  the  Ameri- 
can force  numbered  several  of  those  fruitless  in- 
dividuals that  drift  in  and  out  of  all  mining  communi- 
ties, it  was  on  the  whole  of  rather  high  caliber.  Be- 
sides "  Sully  the  Pug,"  a  mere  human  animal,  hairy 
and  muscular  as  a  bear,  and  two  "  Texicans,"  as 
those  born  in  the  States  of  some  Mexican  blood  and 
generally  a  touch  of  foreign  accent  are  called,  there 
were  two  engineers  who  lived  with  their  "  chinitas," 
or  illiterate  mestizo  Mexican  wives  and  broods  of 
peon  children  down  in  the  valley  below  the  dump- 
heap.  Caste  lines  were  not  lacking  even  among  the 
Americans  in  the  "  camp,"  as  these  call  Guanajuato 
and  its  mining  environs.  More  than  one  complained 
that  those  who  married  Mexican  girls  of  unsullied 
character  and  even  education  were  rated  "  squaw- 
men  "  and  more  or  less  ostracized  by  their  fellow 
countrymen,  and  especially  country-women,  while 
the  man  who  "  picked  up  an  old  rounder  from  the 
States  "  was  looked  upon  as  an  equal.  The  speech 
of  all  Mexico  is  slovenly  from  the  Castilian  point  of 
view.  Still  more  so  was  that  of  both  the  peon  and 
the  Americans,  who  copied  the  untutored  tongue  of 
the  former,  often  ignorant  of  its  faults,  and  gener- 
ally not  in  the  least  anxious  to  improve,  nor  indeed 
to  get  any  other  advantage  from  the  country  except 
the  gold  and  silver  they  could  dig  out  of  it.  Labor- 
ers and  bosses  commonly  used  "  pierra  "  for  piedra ; 
"  sa'  pa'  fuera  "  for  to  leave  the  mine,  "  croquesi " 


A\'()rking  a  '"headiiifj;"  l)y  hand 


IN  A  MEXICAN  MINE  75 

for  I  believe  so,  commonly  ignorant  even  of  the  fact 
that  this  is  not  a  single  word.  In  the  mess-hall  were 
heard  strange  mixtures  of  the  two  languages,  as 
when  a  man  rising  to  answer  some  call  shouted  over 
his  shoulder:  "Juan,  deja  mi  pie  alone!" 
Thanks  to  much  peon  intercourse,  almost  all  the 
Americans  had  an  unconsciously  patronizing  air  even 
to  their  fellows,  as  many  a  pedagogue  comes  to  ad- 
dress all  the  world  in  the  tone  of  the  schoolroom. 
The  Mexican,  like  the  Spaniard,  never  laughs  at  the 
most  atrocious  attempts  at  his  tongue  by  foreigners, 
and  even  the  peons  were  often  extremely  quick-witted 
in  catching  the  idea  from  a  few  mispronounced  words. 

**  The  man  with  the  hair ,"  I  said  one  day,  in 

describing  a  workman  I  wished  summoned;  and  not 
for  the  moment  recalling  the  Castilian  for  curly,  I 
twirled  my  fingers  in  the  air. 

"  Chino ! "  cried  at  least  a  half-dozen  peons  in  the 
same  breath. 

Small  wonder  the  Mexican  considers  the  "  gringo  " 
rude.  An  American  boss  would  send  a  peon  to  fetch 
his  key  or  cigarettes,  or  on  some  equally  important 
errand ;  the  workman  would  run  all  the  way  up  hill 
and  down  again  in  the  rarified  air,  removing  his  hat 
as  he  handed  over  the  desired  article,  and  the  average 
man  from  the  States  would  not  so  much  as  grunt  his 
thanks. 

The  engineers  on  whom  our  lives  depended  as  often 
as  we  descended  into  or  mounted  from  the  mine,  had 


76         TRAMPING  THROUGH  MEXICO 

concocted  and  posted  in  the  engine-room  the  follow- 
ing "  ten  commandments  " : 

"  NOTICE    TO    VISITORS   AND    OTHERS 

"  Article  1.  Be  seated  on  the  platform.  It  is 
too  large  for  the  engineer  anyway. 

"  Art.  2.  Spit  on  the  floor.  We  like  to  clean 
up  after  you. 

"  Art.  3.  Talk  to  the  engineer  while  he  is  run- 
ning.    There  is  no  responsibility  to  his  job. 

"  Art.  4.  If  the  engineer  does  not  know  his  busi- 
ness, please  tell  him.     He  will  appreciate  it. 

"  Art.  5.  Ask  him  as  many  questions  as  you  like. 
He  is  paid  to  answer  them. 

"  Art.  6.  Please  handle  all  the  bright  work. 
We  have  nothing  to  do  but  clean  it. 

"  Art.  7.  Don't  spit  on  the  ceiling.  We  have 
lost  the  ladder. 

"  Art.  8.  Should  the  engineer  look  angry  don't 
pay  any  attention  to  him.     He  is  harmless. 

"  Art.  9.  If  you  have  no  cigarettes  take  his. 
They  grow  in  his  garden. 

"  Art.  10.  If  he  is  not  entertaining,  report  him 
to  the  superintendent  and  he  will  be  fired  at  once." 

On  the  second  day  the  scene  of  my  operations  was 
changed  to  the  eighth  level,  a  hundred  feet  below  that 
of  the  first.  It  was  a  long  gallery  winding  away 
through  the  mountain,  and  connecting  a  mile  beyond 
with  another  shaft  opening  on  another  hill,  so  that 
the  heavy  air  was  tempered  by  a  constant  mild  breeze. 


IN  A  MEXICAN  MINE  77 

Side  shafts  just  large  enough  for  the  ore-cars  to 
pass,  pierced  far  back  into  the  mountain  at  frequent 
intervals.  Back  in  these  it  was  furnace  hot.  From 
them  the  day-gang  took  out  115  car-loads,  though 
the  chute  was  blocked  now  and  then  by  huge  rocks 
that  must  be  "  shot "  by  a  small  charge  of  dynamite 
stuck  on  them,  a  new  way  of  "  shooting  the  chutes  " 
that  was  like  striking  the  ear-drums  with  a  club. 

The  peons  placed  in  each  gallery  either  a  cross  or 
a  lithograph  of  the  Virgin  in  a  shrine  made  of  a 
dynamite-box,  and  kept  at  least  one  candle  always 
burning  before  it.  In  the  morning  it  was  a  common 
sight  to  see  several  appear  with  a  bunch  of  fresh- 
picked  flowers  to  set  up  before  the  image.  Most  of 
the  men  wore  a  rosary  or  charm  about  the  neck, 
which  they  did  not  remove  even  when  working  naked, 
and  all  crossed  themselves  each  time  they  entered  the 
mine.  Not  a  few  chanted  prayers  while  the  cage  was 
descending.  As  often  as  they  passed  the  gallery- 
shrine,  they  left  off  for  an  instant  the  vilest  oaths, 
in  which  several  boys  from  twelve  to  fourteen  ex- 
celled, to  snatch  off  their  hats  to  the  Virgin,  then  in- 
stantly took  up  their  cursing  again.  Whenever  I 
left  the  mine  they  begged  the  half-candle  I  had  left, 
and  set  it  up  with  the  rest.  Yet  they  had  none  of  the 
touchiness  of  the  Hindu  about  their  superstitions, 
and  showed  no  resentment  whatever  even  when  a 
"  gringo  "  stopped  to  light  his  cigarette  at  their  im- 
provised "  altars." 


78         TRAMPING  THROUGH  MEXICO 

Trusted  miners  hired  to  search  the  others  for 
stolen  ore  as  thej  leave  the  shaft  were  sometimes 
waylaid  on  the  journey  home  and  beaten  almost  or 
quite  to  death.  Once  given  a  position  of  authority, 
they  were  harsher  with  their  own  kind  than  were  the 
white  men.  The  scarred  and  seared  old  "  Pingiiico  " 
searcher,  who  stood  at  his  block  three  times  each 
twenty-four  hours,  had  already  killed  three  men  who 
thus  attacked  him.  Under  no  provocation  whatever 
would  the  peons  fight  underground,  but  lay  for  their 
enemies  only  outside.  A  shift-boss  in  a  neighboring 
mine  remained  seven  weeks  below,  having  his  food 
sent  down  to  him,  and  continued  to  work  daily  with 
miners  who  had  sworn  to  kill  him  once  they  caught 
him  on  earth.  One  of  our  engineers  had  long  been 
accustomed  at  another  mine  to  hand  his  revolver  to 
the  searcher  when  the  shift  appeared  and  to  arm  him- 
self with  a  heavy  club.  One  day  the  searcher  gave 
the  superintendent  a  "  tip,"  and  when  the  hundred 
or  more  were  lined  up  they  were  suddenly  commanded 
to  take  off  their  borracJias.  A  gasp  of  dismay 
sounded,  but  all  hastily  snatched  off  their  sandals 
and  something  like  a  bushel  of  high-grade  ore  in  thin 
strips  lay  scattered  on  the  ground.  But  a  few  morn- 
ings later  the  searcher  was  found  dead  half  way  be- 
tween the  mine  and  his  home. 

Some  of  the  mines  round  about  Guanajuato  were 
in  a  most  chaotic  state,  especially  those  of  individual 
ownership.     The  equipment  was  often  so  poor  that 


Peon  miners  beinp;  searched  for  stolen  ore  as  they  leave  the  mine 


Bricks  of  gold  and  silver  ready  for  shipment.    Each  is  worth  some- 
thing like  SllTiO 


IN  A  MEXICAN  MINE  81 

fatal  accidents  were  common,  deaths  even  resulting 
from  rocks  falling  down  the  shafts.  Among  our 
engineers  was  one  who  had  recently  come  from  a 
mine  where  during  two  weeks'  employment  he  pulled 
out  from  one  to  four  corpses  daily,  until  "  it  got  so 
monotonous  "  he  resigned.  In  that  same  mine  it  was 
customary  to  lock  in  each  shift  until  the  relieving  one 
arrived,  and  many  worked  four  or  five  shifts,  thirty- 
two  to  forty  hours  without  a  moment  of  rest,  swal- 
lowing a  bit  of  food  now  and  then  with  a  sledge  in 
one  hand.  "  High-graders,"  as  ore-thieves  are 
called,  were  numerous.  The  near-by  "  Sirena  "  mine 
was  reputed  to  have  in  its  personnel  more  men  who 
lived  by  stealing  ore  than  honest  workmen.  There 
ran  the  story  of  a  new  boss  in  a  mine  so  near  ours 
that  we  could  hear  its  blasting  from  our  eighth  level, 
long  dull  thuds  that  seemed  to  run  through  the  moun- 
tain like  a  shudder  through  a  human  body,  who  was 
making  his  first  underground  inspection  when  his 
light  suddenly  went  out  and  he  felt  the  cold  barrel 
of  a  revolver  against  his  temple.  A  peon  voice 
sounded  in  the  darkness  close  to  his  ear: 

"  No  te  muevas,  hi  jo  de ,  si  quieres  vivir !  " 

Another  light  was  struck  and  he  made  out  some 
twenty  peons,  each  with  a  sack  of  "  high-grade," 
and  was  warned  to  take  his  leave  on  the  double-quick 
and  not  to  look  around  on  penalty  of  a  worse  fate 
than  that  of  Lot's  wife. 

Bandit  gangs  were  known  to  live  in  out-of-the-way 


82         TRAMPING  THROUGH  MEXICO 

corners  of  several  mines,  bringing  their  blankets  and 
tortillas  with  them  and  making  a  business  of  stealing 
ore.  Not  even  the  most  experienced  mining  engineer 
could  more  quickly  recognize  "  pay  dirt "  than  the 
peon  population  of  Guanajuato  vicinity. 

Though  he  is  obsequious  enough  under  ordinary 
circumstances,  the  mine  peon  often  has  a  deep- 
rooted  hatred  of  the  American,  which  vents  itself 
chiefly  in  cold  silence,  unless  opportunity  makes  some 
more  effective  way  possible.  Next  on  his  black-list 
comes  the  Spaniard,  who  is  reputed  a  heartless 
usurer  who  long  enjoyed  protection  under  Diaz. 
Third,  perhaps,  come  the  priests,  though  these  are 
endured  as  a  necessary  evil,  as  we  endure  a  bad 
government.  The  padre  of  Calderon  drifted  up  to 
the  mine  one  day  to  pay  his  respects  and  drink  the 
mine  health  in  good  Scotch  whisky.  Gradually  he 
brought  the  conversation  around  to  the  question  of 
disobedience  among  the  peons,  and  summed  up  his 
advice  to  the  Americans  in  a  vehement  explosion: 

"  Fine  them !  »  Fine  them  often,  and  much ! 

"  Of  course,"  he  added,  as  he  prepared  to  leave, 
"  you  know  that  by  the  laws  of  Mexico  and  the  Santa 
Iglesia  all  such  fines  go  to  the  church." 

Intercourse  between  the  mine  officials  and  native 
authorities  was  almost  alwaj's  sure  to  make  it  worth 
while  to  linger  in  the  vicinity.  My  disrespectful 
fellow  countrymen  were  much  given  to  mix  in  with 
the  most  courteous  Spanish  forms  of  speech  asides 


IN  A  MEXICAN  MINE  83 

in  English  which  it  was  well  the  pompous  official  na- 
tives did  not  understand.  I  reached  the  office  one 
day  to  find  the  chief  of  police  just  arrived  to  collect 
for  his  services  in  guarding  the  money  brought  out 
on  pay-day. 

"  Ah,  sefior  mi'o,"  cried  the  superintendent,  "  Y 
como  estd  usted?  La  familia  buena?  Y  los  hijos  — 
I'll  slip  the  old  geaser  his  six  bones  and  let  him  be  on 
his  way —  Oh,  si,  sefior.  Como  no?  Con  mu- 
chisimo  gusto  —  and  there  goes  six  of  our  good 
bucks  and  four  bits  and  —  Pues  adios,  muy  senor 
mio !  Vaya  bien !  —  If  only  you  break  your  worth- 
less old  neck  on  the  way  home  —     Adios  pues  !  " 

After  the  shower-bath  it  was  as  much  worth  while 
to  stroll  up  over  the  ridge  back  of  the  camp  and 
watch  the  night  settle  down  over  this  upper-story 
world.  Only  on  the  coast  of  Cochinchina  have  I 
seen  sunsets  to  equal  those  in  this  altitude.  Each 
one  was  different.  To-night  it  stretched  entirely 
across  the  saw-toothed  summits  of  the  western  hills 
in  a  narrow,  pinkish-red  streak ;  to-morrow  the  play 
of  colors  on  mountains  and  clouds  shot  blood-red, 
fading  to  saffron  yellow  growing  an  ever-thicker 
gray  down  to  the  horizon,  with  the  unrivaled  blue  of 
the  sky  overhead,  all  shifting  and  changing  with 
every  moment,  would  be  hopelessly  beyond  the  power 
of  words.  Often  rain  was  falling  in  a  spot  or  two 
far  to  the  west,  and  there  the  clouds  were  jet  black. 
In  one  place  well  above  the  horizon  was  perhaps  a 


84.         TRAjVIPING  THROUGH  MEXICO 

brilliant  pinkish  patch  of  reflected  sun,  and  every- 
thing else  an  immensity  of  clouded  sky  running  from 
Confederate  gray  above  to  a  blackish-blue  that 
blended  with  range  upon  range  to  the  uttermost  dis- 
tance. 

There  was  always  a  peculiar  stillness  over  all 
the  scene.  Groups  of  sandaled  mine  peons  wound 
noiselessly  away,  a  few  rods  apart,  along  undulating 
trails,  the  red  of  their  sarapes  and  the  yellow  of  their 
immense  hats  giving  the  predominating  hue.  In 
the  vast  landscape  was  much  green,  though  more 
gray  of  outcropping  rocks.  Here  and  there  a  lonely 
telegraph  wire  struck  off  dubiously  across  the  rug- 
ged country.  Rocks  as  large  as  houses  hung  on  the 
great  hillsides,  ready  to  roll  down  and  destroy  at  the 
slightest  movement  of  the  earth,  like  playthings  left 
by  careless  giant  cliildren.  Along  some  rocky  path 
far  down  in  the  nearer  valley  a  small  horse  of  the 
patient  Mexican  breed,  under  its  picturesque,  huge- 
hatted  rider,  galloped  sure-footed  up  and  down  steep 
faces  of  rock.  Cargadores  bent  half  double,  with 
a  rope  across  their  brows,  came  straining  upward 
to  the  mine.  Bands  of  peons  released  from  their  un- 
derground labors  paused  here  and  there  on  the  way 
home  to  wager  cigarettes  on  wliich  could  toss  a  stone 
nearest  the  next  mud  puddle.  Flocks  of  goats  wan- 
dered in  the  growing  dusk  about  swift  rocky  moun- 
tain flanks.  Farther  away  was  a  rocky  ridge  beaten 
with  narrow,  bare,  crisscross  trails,  and  beyond,  the 


IN  A  MEXICAN  MINE  85 

old  Valenciana  mine  on  the  flanks  of  the  jagged 
range  shutting  off  Dolores  Hidalgo,  appearing  so 
near  in  this  clear  air  of  the  heights  that  it  seemed  a 
man  could  throw  a  stone  there ;  yet  down  in  the  val- 
ley between  lay  all  Guanajuato,  the  invisible,  and 
none  might  know  how  many  bandits  were  sleeping 
out  the  day  in  their  lurking-places  among  the  wild, 
broken  valleys  and  gorges  the  view  embraced. 
Down  in  its  rock-tumbled  valley  spread  the  scattered 
town  of  Calderon,  and  the  knell  of  its  tinny  old 
church  bells  came  drifting  up  across  the  divide  on  the 
sturdy  evening  breeze,  tinged  with  cold,  that  seemed 
to  bring  the  night  with  it,  so  silently  and  coolly  did 
it  settle  down.  The  immense  plain  and  farther 
mountains  remained  almost  visible  in  the  starlight, 
in  the  middle  distance  the  lamps  of  Silao,  and  near 
the  center  of  the  half-seen  picture  those  of  Irapuato, 
while  far  away  a  faint  glow  in  the  sky  marked  the 
location  of  the  city  of  Leon. 

Excitement  burst  upon  the  mess-table  one  night. 
Rival  politicians  were  to  contend  the  following  Sun- 
day for  the  governorship  of  the  State,  and  the 
"  liberal  "  candidate  had  assured  the  peons  that  he 
would  treble  their  wages  and  force  the  company  to 
give  them  full  pay  during  illness,  and  that  those  who 
voted  for  his  rival  were  really  casting  ballots  for 
"  los  gringos  "  who  had  stolen  away  their  mines.  All 
this  was,  of  course,  pure  campaign  bunco ;  as  a  mat- 
ter of  fact  the  lowest  wages  in  all  the  mines  of  Mex- 


86         TRAMPING  THROUGH  MEXICO 

ico  were  in  those  belonging  to  the  then  "  liberal  " 
President  of  the  republic,  and  accident  pay  would 
have  caused  these  insensible  fellows  to  drop  rocks  on 
themselves  to  enjoy  its  benefits.  For  several  morn- 
ings threatening  political  posters  had  appeared  on 
the  walls  of  the  company  buildings.  But  this  time 
word  came  that  "  liberal "  posters  had  been  stuck 
up  in  the  galleries  of  the  mine  itself.  The  boss 
sprang  to  his  feet,  and  without  even  sending  for  his 
revolver  went  down  into  the  earth.  An  hour  or  more 
later  he  reappeared  with  the  remnants  of  the  posters. 
Though  the  mine  was  populated  with  peons  and  there 
was  not  then  another  American  below  ground,  they 
watched  him  tear  down  the  sheets  without  other 
movement  than  to  cringe  about  him,  each  begging 
not  to  be  believed  guilty.  Later  a  peon  was  charged 
with  the  deed  and  forever  forbidden  to  work  in 
the  mines  of  the  company.  The  superintendent 
threatened  to  discharge  any  employee  who  voted  for 
the  "  liberal  "  candidate,  and,  though  he  could  not  of 
course  know  who  did,  their  dread  of  punishment  no 
doubt  kept  many  from  voting  at  all. 

Work  in  the  mine  never  ceased.  Even  as  we  fell 
asleep  the  engine  close  at  hand  panted  constantly, 
the  mild  clangor  of  the  blacksmith-shop  continued 
unbroken,  cars  of  rock  were  dumped  every  few  min- 
utes under  the  swarming  stars,  the  mine  pulse  beat 
unchanging,  and  far  down  beneath  our  beds  hundreds 


IN  A  MEXICAN  MINE  87 

of  naked  peons  were  still  tearing  incessantly  at  the 
rocky  entrails  of  the  earth. 

Though  the  mine  throbbed  on,  I  set  off  on  sunny 
Sunday  morning  to  walk  to  town  and  the  weekly 
ball  game.  It  was  just  warm  enough  for  a  summer 
coat,  a  breeze  blew  as  at  sea,  an  occasional  telephone 
pole  was  singing  as  with  contentment  with  life  in  this 
perfect  climate.  Groups  of  brownish-gray  donkeys 
with  loads  on  their  backs  passed  me  or  crawled  along 
far-away  trails,  followed  by  men  in  tight  white 
trousers,  their  striped  and  gay-colored  sarapes  about 
their  bodies  and  their  huge  hats  atop.  Over  all  was 
a  Sunday  stillness,  broken  only  by  the  occasional 
bark  of  a  distant  dog  or  a  cockcrow  that  was  almost 
musical  as  it  was  borne  by  on  the  wind.  Everywhere 
were  mountains  piled  into  the  sky.  Valenciana, 
where  so  many  Spaniards,  long  since  gone  to  what- 
ever reward  awaited  them,  waxed  rich  and  built  a 
church  now  golden  brown  with  age,  sat  on  its  slope 
across  the  valley  down  in  which  no  one  would  have 
guessed  huddled  a  city  of  some  60,000  inhabitants. 
INIuch  nearer  and  a  bit  below  drowsed  the  old  town 
of  Calderon,  home  of  many  of  our  peons,  a  bright 
red  blanket  hung  over  a  stone  wall  giving  a  splash 
of  brilliancy  to  the  vast  stretch  of  grayish,  dnll- 
brown,  and  thirsty  green.  The  road  wound  slowly 
down  and  ever  down,  until  the  gullies  grew  warmer  as 
the  rising  mountains  cut  off  the  breeze  and  left  the 


88         TRAMPING  THROUGH  MEXICO 

sun  in  undisputed  command.  Along  the  way  were 
flowers  uncountable,  chiefly  large,  white,  lily-like 
blossoms  growing  on  a  bush,  then  thick  patches  of 
orange-yellow.  Horsemen,  Mexicans  on  burros, 
peon  men,  women,  and  children  afoot  were  legion. 
There  were  no  Americans,  though  I  passed  one  huge 
Negro  with  a  great  black  beard  who  gave  me  "  Good 
morning  "  from  his  horse  in  the  tone  of  a  man  who 
had  not  met  an  equal  before  in  some  time.  At  length 
appeared  the  emerald-green  patch  of  the  upper 
Presa,  with  its  statue  of  Hidalgo,  and  the  cafe-au- 
lait  pond  that  stores  the  city's  water,  and  over  the 
parapet  of  which  hung  guana juatenses  watching 
with  wonder  the  rowboat  of  the  American  hospital 
doctor,  the  only  water  craft  the  great  majority  of 
them  had  ever  seen. 

A  natural  amphitheater  encloses  the  ball-ground 
in  which  were  gathered  the  wives  of  Americans,  in 
snowy  white,  to  watch  a  game  between  teams  made 
up  chiefly  of  *'  gringoes  "  of  the  mines,  my  one-time 
classmate  still  at  short-stop,  as  in  our  schoolboy 
days,  thanks  to  which  no  doubt  Guanajuato  held  the 
baseball  championship  of  Mexico.  Like  the  English 
officials  of  India,  the  Americans  in  high  places  here 
were  noticeable  for  their  youth,  and  at  least  here  on 
the  ball-ground  for  their  democracy,  known  to  all 
by  their  boyhood  nicknames  yet  held  almost  in  rev- 
erence by  the  Mexican  youths  that  filled  in  the  less 
important  positions.     At  the  club  after  the  game  the 


In  a  natural  amphitheater  of  Cnianajuato  the  American  miners  of 
the  region  gather  on  Sunday's  for  a  game  of  baseball 


Some  (»f  tlie  jieuns  under  my  eiiarge  atMjvit  \n  lease  the  mine 


IX  A  MEXICAN  MINE  91 

champion  Mexican  player  discoursed  on  the  certainty 
of  ultimate  American  intervention  and  expressed  his 
own  attitude  with: 

"  Let  it  come,  for  I  am  not  a  politician  but  a 
baseball  player." 

It  was  election  day,  and  I  passed  several  door- 
ways, among  them  that  of  the  company  stable,  in 
wliich  a  half-dozen  old  fossils  in  their  most  solemn 
black  garb  crouched  dreamily  over  wooden  tables 
with  registers,  papers,  and  ink  bottles  before  them. 
Now  and  then  a  frightened  peon  slunk  up  hat  in  hand 
to  find  whether  they  wished  him  to  vote,  and  how,  or 
to  see  if  perhaps  he  had  not  voted  already  —  by  ab- 
sent treatment.  The  manager  of  one  of  the  mines 
had  come  into  the  office  of  the  jefe  politico  of  his  dis- 
trict the  night  before  and  found  the  ballots  already 
made  out  for  the  "  liberal "  candidate.  He  tore 
them  up  and  sent  his  own  men  to  watch  the  election, 
with  the  result  that  there  was  a  strong  majority  in 
that  precinct  in  favor  of  the  candidate  more  pleas- 
ing to  the  mine  owners.  The  pulquerias  and  saloons 
of  the  peons  had  been  closed,  but  not  the  clubs  and 
resorts  of  the  white  men.  In  one  of  these  I  sat  with 
the  boss,  watching  him  play  a  game  of  stud  poker. 
A  dissipated  young  American,  who  smoked  a  cigar 
and  a  cigarette  at  the  same  time,  was  most  in  evi- 
dence, a  half  Comanche  Indian  of  an  utterly  im- 
passive countenance  did  the  dealing,  and  fortunes 
went  up  and  down  amid  the  incessant  rattle  of  chips 


92         TRAIMPING  THROUGH  MEXICO 

far  into  the  morning.  At  three  the  boss  broke 
away,  nine  dollars  to  the  good,  while  the  proprietor 
of  the  place  ended  with  an  enormous  heap  of  chips 
in  front  of  him ;  another  American,  making  out  to 
him  a  check  for  $90,  and  calling  for  his  horse,  rode 
back  to  his  mine  to  earn  it  —  the  shoes  of  the  horse 
clanking  on  the  cobbles  in  the  silence  of  the  night 
and  passing  now  and  then  a  policeman's  lantern  set 
in  the  middle  of  the  street,  while  that  official  hud- 
dled in  his  white  uniform  in  a  dark  corner,  ostensi- 
bly keeping  guard. 

On  another  such  a  day  I  turned  back  about  dusk 
up  the  gorge  on  the  return  to  the  mine.  The  upper 
park  where  the  band  had  played  earlier  was  now 
completely  deserted.  The  road  was  nearly  five  miles 
long;  the  trail,  sheer  up  the  wild  tumble  of  moun- 
tains before  me,  little  more  than  two.  This  was 
vaguely  reputed  dangerous,  but  I  was  not  inclined 
to  take  the  rumor  seriously. 

Black  night  fell.  Soon  I  came  upon  the  vanguard 
of  the  day-shift  from  "  Pingiiico,"  straggling  down 
the  face  of  the  mountain,  shouting  and  whistling  to 
each  other  in  their  peculiar  language.  Some  car- 
ried torches  that  flashed  along  the  mountain  wall 
above  me  and  threw  long  quaint  shadows  of  the  tight- 
trousered  legs.  The  grade  was  more  than  fort}"- 
five  degrees,  with  much  slipping  and  sliding  on  un- 
seen rocks.  Two  or  three  groups  had  passed  when 
one  of  the  men  recognized  me  and  with  a  "  Buenas 


IN  A  MEXICAN  MINE  93 

noches,  jefe!"  insisted  on  giving  me  the  torch  he 
carried,  a  mine  candle  with  a  cloth  wrapped  around 
it  as  a  protection  in  the  strong  wind.  I  had  soon  to 
cast  this  away,  as  it  not  only  threatened  to  burn  my 
hand  but  left  the  eyes  unable  to  pierce  the  surround- 
ing wall  of  darkness.  In  the  silence  of  the  night 
there  came  to  mind  the  assertion  of  by  no  means 
our  most  timorous  engineer,  that  he  never  passed 
over  this  trail  after  dark  without  carrying  his  re- 
volver cocked  in  his  hand.  My  fellow  countrymen 
of  the  region  all  wore  huge  "  six-shooters  "  with  a 
large  belt  of  cartridges  always  in  sight,  less  for  use  j 
than  the  salutary  effect  of  having  them  visible,  in  \ 
itself  a  real  protection.  Conditions  in  Mexico  had  ^ 
led  me  to  go  armed  for  the  first  time  in  my  travels ; 
or  more  exactly,  to  carry  one  of  the  *'  vest  pocket 
automatics "  so  much  in  vogue  —  on  advertising 
pages  —  in  that  season.  My  experienced  fellow 
Americans  refused  to  regard  this  weapon  seriously. 
One  had  made  the  very  fitting  suggestion  that  each 
bullet  should  bear  a  tag  with  the  devise,  "  You  're 
shot !  "  An  aged  "  roughneck  "  of  a  half-century 
of  ^Mexican  residence  had  put  it  succinctly :     "  Yer 

travel  scheme  's  all  right ;  but  I  '11  be if  I 

like  the  gat  you  carry."  However,  such  as  it  was, 
I  drew  it  now  and  held  it  ready  for  whatever  it  might 
be  called  upon  to  attempt. 

A  half  hour  of  heavy  climbing  brought  me  to  the 
simimit,  with  a  strong  cool  breeze  and  a  splendid 


94         TRAMPING  THROUGH  MEXICO 

view  of  the  spreading  lights  of  Guanajuato  in  the 
narrow  winding  gullj  far  below.  The  trail  wound 
round  a  peak  and  reached  the  first  scattered  huts  of 
Calderon  just  as  a  number  of  shots  sounded  not  far 
away.  These  increased  until  all  the  dogs  for  miles 
around  took  up  the  hue  and  cry.  The  shots  multi- 
plied, with  much  shouting  and  uproar,  soon  sound- 
ing on  both  sides  and  ahead  and  behind  me,  whUe 
the  whistling  language  shrilled  from  every  gully  and 
hillside.  Evidently  drunken  peons  were  harmlessly 
celebrating  their  Sunday  holiday,  but  the  shots 
sounded  none  the  less  weirdly  out  of  the  black  night 
as  I  stumbled  on  over  the  rocky,  tumbled  country, 
for  the  only  smooth  way  thereabouts  was  the  Milky 
Way  faintly  seen  overhead.  Gradually  the  shoot- 
ing and  shouting  drifted  behind  me  and  died  out  as 
I  surmounted  the  last  knoll  and  descended  to  bed. 
It  was  only  at  breakfast  next  morning  that  I  learned 
I  had  serenely  strolled  through  a  pitched  battle  be- 
tween bandits  that  haunted  the  recesses  of  the  moun- 
tains about  Calderon  and  the  town  which,  led  by 
its  jefe  politico,  had  finally  won  the  bout  with  four 
outlaw  corpses  to  its  credit.  It  was  my  luck  not  to 
have  even  a  bullet-hole  through  my  cap  to  prove  the 
story.  There  were  often  two  or  three  such  battles 
a  week  in  the  vicinity. 

That  morning  I  was  given  a  new  job.  The  boss 
led  the  way,  candle  in  hand,  a  half  mile  back  through 
the  bowels  of  the  mountain,  winding  with  the  swing- 


The  easiest  way  to  carry  a  knapsack — on  a  j^eon's  back 


The  ore  thieves  of  Peregrina  being  led  away  it  j)n.s(Hi 


IN  A  MEXICAN  MINE  97 

ing  of  the  former  ore  vein.  This  alone  was  enough 
to  get  hopelessly  lost  in,  even  without  its  many  blind- 
alley  branches.  Now  and  then  we  came  upon  an- 
other shaft-opening  that  seemed  a  bottomless  hole 
a  few  feet  in  diameter  in  the  solid  rock,  from  far 
down  which  came  up  the  falsetto  voices  and  the 
stinking  sweat  of  peons,  and  the  rap,  rap  of  heavy 
hammers  on  iron  rock-bars.  But  we  had  only 
started.  Far  back  in  the  gallery  we  took  another 
hoist  and  descended  some  two  hundred  feet  more, 
then  wound  off  again  through  the  mountain  by  more 
labyrinthian  burrowings  in  the  rock,  winding,  un- 
dulating passages,  often  so  low  we  must  crawl  on 
hands  and  knees,  with  no  other  light  than  the  flicker- 
ing candles  half-showing  shadowy  forms  of  naked, 
copper-colored  beings ;  the  shadows  giving  them 
often  fiendish  faces  and  movements,  until  we  could 
easily  imagine  ourselves  in  the  realms  of  Dante's 
imagination.  In  time  we  came  to  a  ladder  leading 
upward  into  a  narrow  dark  hole,  and  when  the  lad- 
der ended  we  climbed  some  forty  feet  higher  on  our 
bellies  up  a  ledge  of  rock  to  another  heading,  along 
which  we  made  our  way  another  hundred  yards  or 
more  to  where  a  dozen  naked  peons  were  operating 
compressed-air  drills ;  then  wormed  our  way  like 
snakes  over  the  resultant  debris  to  the  present  end  of 
the  passage  where  more  peons  were  drilling  by  hand, 
one  man  holding  a  bar  of  iron  a  few  feet  long  which 
another  was  striking  with  a  five-pound  sledge  that 


98         TRAMPING  THROUGH  MEXICO 

luckily  never  missed  its  mark.  This  was  indeed 
working  in  INIexico.  It  would  have  been  difficult  to 
get  farther  into  it;  and  a  man  could  not  but  dully 
wonder  if  he  would  ever  get  out  again. 

We  were  evidently  very  close  to  the  infernal 
regions.  Here,  indeed,  would  have  been  a  splendid 
setting  for  an  orthodox  hell.  Peons  whose  only  gar- 
ment was  the  size  of  a  postcard,  some  even  with  their 
hats  off,  glistened  all  over  their  brown  bodies  as  un- 
der a  shower-bath.  In  five  minutes  I  had  sweat  com- 
pletely through  my  garments,  in  ten  I  could  wring 
water  out  of  my  jacket ;  drops  fell  regularly  at  about 
half-second  intervals  from  the  end  of  my  nose  and 
chin.  The  dripping  sweat  formed  puddles  beneath 
the  toilers,  the  air  was  so  scarce  and  second-hand 
every  breath  was  a  deep  gasp ;  nowhere  a  sign  of 
exit,  as  If  we  had  been  walled  up  in  this  narrow,  low- 
ceiled,  jagged-rock  passageway  for  all  time. 

My  work  here  was  to  take  samples  from  the 
"  roof."  A  grinning  peon  who  called  himself 
"  Bruno  Basques "  (Vasquez)  followed  me  about, 
holding  his  hat  under  the  hammer  with  which  I 
chipped  bits  of  rock  from  above,  back  and  forth 
across  the  top  of  the  tunnel  every  few  feet.  The 
ore  ran  very  high  in  grade  here,  the  vein  being  some 
six  feet  of  whitish  rocky  substance  between  sheer  walls 
of  ordinary  rock.  It  struck  one  most  forcibly,  this 
strange  inquisitiveness  of  man  that  had  caused  him 
to  prowl  around  inside  the  earth  like  a  mole,  looking 


IN  A  MEXICAN  MINE  99 

for  a  peculiar  kind  of  soil  or  stone  which  no  one  at 
first  sight  could  have  guessed  was  of  any  particular 
value.  The  peons,  smeared  all  over  with  the  drip- 
pings of  candle-grease,  worked  steadily  for  all  the 
heat  and  stuffiness.  Indeed,  one  could  not  but  won- 
der at  the  amount  of  energy  they  sold  for  a  day's 
wages ;  though  of  course  their  industry  was  partly 
due  to  my  "  gringo  "  presence.  We  addressed  them 
as  inferiors,  in  the  "  tu  "  form  and  with  the  generic 
title  "  hombre,"  or,  more  exactly,  in  the  case  of  most 
of  the  American  bosses,  "  hum-bray."  The  white 
man  who  said  "  please "  to  them,  or  even  showed 
thanks  in  any  way,  such  as  giving  them  a  cigarette, 
lost  caste  in  their  eyes  as  surely  as  with  a  butler  one 
might  attempt  to  treat  as  a  man.  I  tried  it  on 
Bruno,  and  he  almost  instantly  changed  from  obse- 
quiousness to  near-insolence.  When  I  had  put  him 
in  his  place  again,  he  said  he  was  glad  I  spoke 
Spanish,  for  so  many  "  jefes  "  had  pulled  his  hair 
and  ears  and  slapped  him  in  the  face  because  he  did 
not  understand  their  "  strange  talk."  He  did  not 
mention  this  in  any  spirit  of  complaint,  but  merely 
as  a  curious  fact  and  one  of  the  many  visitations 
fate  sees  fit  to  send  those  of  her  children  unluckily 
born  peons.  His  jet  black  hair  was  so  thick  that 
small  stones  not  only  did  not  hurt  his  head  as  they 
fell  from  under  my  hammer,  but  remained  buried  in 
his  thatch,  so  that  nearly  as  many  samples  were 
taken  from  this  as  from  the  roof  of  the  passage. 


100       TRAMPING  THROUGH  MEXICO 

Thus  the  sweat-dripping  days  passed,  without  a 
hint  of  what  might  be  going  on  in  the  world  far 
above,  amid  the  roar  and  pounding  of  air  and  hand- 
drills,  the  noisy  falling  of  masses  of  rock  as  these 
broke  it  loose,  the  constant  ringing  of  shovels,  the 
rumble  of  iron  ore-cars  on  their  thread-like  rails, 
cries  of  "  'sta  pegado ! "  quickly  followed  by  the 
stunning,  ear-splitting  dynamite  blast,  screams  of 
"  No  vas  echar ! "  as  some  one  passed  beneath  an 
opening  above,  of  "  Ahora  si!"  when  he  was  out  of 
danger;  the  shrill  warning  whistling  of  the  peons 
echoing  back  and  forth  through  the  galleries  and 
labyrinthian  side  tunnels,  as  the  crunch  of  shoes 
along  the  track  announced  the  approach  of  some 
boss ;  the  shouting  of  the  peons  "  throwing  "  a  laden 
car  along  the  track  through  the  heavy  smoke-laden 
air,  so  thick  with  the  smell  of  powder  and  thin  with 
oxygen  that  even  experienced  bosses  developed  rag- 
ing headaches,  and  the  Beau  Brummel  secretary  of 
the  company  fell  down  once  with  dizziness  and  went 
to  bed  after  the  weekly  inspection. 

When  the  first  day  was  done  I  carried  the  ten 
sacks  of  samples  —  via  Bruno's  shoulders  —  through 
the  labyrinth  of  corridors  and  shafts  to  be  loaded  on 
a  car  and  pushed  to  the  main  shaft,  where  blew  a 
veritable  sea-breeze  that  gave  those  coming  from 
the  red-hot  pockets  a  splendid  chance  for  catching 
cold  which  few  overlooked.  In  the  hodega,  or  un- 
derground office,  I  changed  my  dripping  garments 


One  (.f  Mexico's  countless  "armies" 


Vendors  of  strawberries  at  the  station  of  Irapviato 


IN  A  MEXICAN  MINE  103 

for  dry  ones,  but  waited  long  for  the  broken-down 
motor  to  lift  me  again  finally  to  pure  air.  In  the 
days  that  followed  I  was  advanced  to  the  rank  of 
car-boss  in  this  same  level,  and  found  enough  to  do 
and  more  in  keeping  the  tricky  car-men  moving.  A 
favorite  ruse  was  to  tip  over  a  car  on  its  way  to  the 
chute  and  to  grunt  and  groan  over  it  for  a  half- 
hour  pretending  to  lift  it  back  on  the  rails ;  or  to 
tuck  away  far  back  in  some  abandoned  "  lead  "  the 
cars  we  needed,  until  I  went  on  tours  of  investiga- 
tion and  ferreted  them  out. 

During  the  last  days  of  October  I  drew  my  car- 
boss  wages  and  set  out  to  follow  the  ore  after  it  left 
the  mine.  From  the  underground  chutes  it  was 
drawn  up  to  the  surface  in  the  iron  buckets,  dumped 
on  "  gridlcys  "  (screens  made  of  railroad  rails  sep- 
arated a  like  width)  after  weighing,  broken  up  and 
the  worthless  rock  thrown  out  on  the  "  dump,"  a 
great  artificial  hill  overhanging  the  valley  below  and 
threatening  to  bury  the  little  native  houses  huddled 
down  in  it.  A  toy  Baldwin  locomotive  dragged  the 
ore  trains  around  the  hill  to  the  noisy  stamp-mill 
spreading  through  another  valley,  with  a  village 
of  adobe  huts  overgrown  with  masses  of  purple  flow- 
ers and  at  the  bottom  a  plain  of  white  sand  waste 
from  which  the  "  values  "  had  been  extracted.  The 
last  samples  I  had  taken  assayed  nine  pounds  of 
silver  and  23  grams  of  gold  to  the  ton.  The  car- 
loads were  dumped  into  bins  at  the  top  of  the  mill. 


104       TRAMPING  THROUGH  MEXICO 

The  nature  of  the  country  had  been  taken  advantage 
of  in  the  building,  which  hung  twelve  stories  high  on 
the  steep  hillside,  making  gravitation  the  chief  means 
of  transportation  during  the  refining  process. 
Rocks  were  screened  into  one  receptacle  and  broken 
up  by  hand.  The  finer  stuff  went  direct  to  the 
stamps.  Stones  of  ordinary  size  were  spread  by 
machinery  on  a  broad  leather  belt  that  passed  three 
peon  women,  who  picked  out  and  tossed  away  the 
oreless  stones.  Their  movements  were  leisurely,  but 
they  were  sharp-eyed  and  very  few  worthless  bits  got 
by  the  three  of  them.  A  story  below,  the  picked  ma- 
terial went  under  deafening  stamps  weighing  tons 
and  striking  several  blows  a  second,  while  water  was 
turned  in  to  soften  the  material.  This  finally  ran 
down  another  story  in  liquid  form  into  huge  cylin- 
ders where  it  was  rolled  and  rolled  again  and  at  last 
flowed  on,  smelling  like  mortar  or  wet  lime,  onto 
platforms  of  zinc  constantl}"^  shaking  as  with  the 
ague  and  with  water  steadily  flowing  over  them. 
Workmen  about  the  last  and  most  concentrated  of 
these  were  locked  in  rooms  made  of  chicken-wire. 
Below,  the  stuff  flowed  into  enormous  vats,  like 
giants'  washtubs,  and  was  stirred  and  watered  here 
for  several  days  until  the  "  values  "  had  settled  and 
were  drawn  off  at  the  bottom.  There  were  three 
stories,  or  some  thirty,  of  these  immense  vats.  The 
completed  process  left  these  full  of  white  sand  which 


IN  A  MEXICAN  MINE  105 

a  pair  of  peons  spent  several  days  shoveling  out  and 
carrying  down  into  the  valley. 

The  "  values  "  were  next  run  down  into  smaller 
vats  and  treated  with  zinc  shavings,  precipitating  a 
50  per  cent,  pure  metal,  black  in  color,  which  was 
put  into  melting-pots  in  a  padlocked  room  overseen 
by  an  American.  Here  it  was  cast  in  large  brick 
molds,  these  being  knocked  off  and  the  metal  left  to 
slack,  after  which  it  was  melted  again  and  finally 
turned  into  gray-black  blocks  of  the  size  and  form 
of  a  paving-brick,  85  per  cent,  pure,  about  as  heavy 
as  the  average  lady  would  care  to  lift,  and  worth 
something  like  $1250  each.  Two  or  four  of  these 
were  tied  on  the  back  of  a  donkey  and  a  train  of  them 
driven  under  guard  to  the  town  oflBce,  whence  they 
were  shipped  to  Mexico  City,  and  finally  made  into 
those  elusive  things  called  coins,  or  sundry  articles 
for  the  vainglorious,  shipped  abroad  or  stolen  by 
revolutionists.  On  this  same  ground  the  old  colonial 
Spaniards  used  to  spread  the  ore  in  a  cobbled  patio, 
treat  it  with  mercury,  and  drive  mules  round  and 
round  in  it  for  weeks  until  they  pocketed  whatever 
was  left  to  them  after  pa^-ing  the  king's  fifth  and 
the  tithes  of  the  church. 

My  rucksack  on  the  back  of  a  peon  —  and  it  is 
astonishing  how  much  more  easily  one's  possessions 
carry  in  that  fashion ;  as  if  it  were  indeed  that  au- 
tomatic baggage  on  legs  I  have  long  contemplated 


106      TRAMPING  THROUGH  MEXICO 

inventing — I  set  off  to  the  neighboring  mine  of 
"  Peregrina."  As  the  peon  was  accustomed  to  carry 
anything  short  of  a  grand  piano,  he  did  not  complain 
at  this  half-day  excursion  under  some  twenty  pounds. 
Being  drawn  out,  he  grew  quite  cheery  on  this  new 
fashion  of  carrying — "  when  the  load  is  not  much." 
In  the  cool  morning  air,  with  a  wind  full  of  ozone 
sweeping  across  the  high  country,  the  trail  lay  across 
tumbled  stretches  of  rocky  ground,  range  behind 
range  of  mountains  beyond  and  a  ruined  stone  hut 
or  corral  here  and  there  carrying  the  memory  back 
to  Palestine.  For  a  half  hour  we  had  Guanajuato 
in  full  sight  in  its  narrow  gully  far  below.  Many 
donkeys  pattered  by  under  their  loads  of  encinal 
fagots,  the  ragged,  expressionless  drivers  plodding 
silently  at  their  heels. 

Ahead  grew  the  roar  of  "  Peregrina's  "  stamp-mill, 
and  I  was  soon  winding  through  the  gorge-hung 
village.  According  to  the  manager,  I  had  chosen 
well  the  time  of  my  coming,  for  there  was  "  some- 
thing doing."  We  strolled  about  town  until  he  had 
picked  up  the  jefe  politico,  a  handsome  Mexican, 
built  as  massive  as  an  Aztec  stone  idol,  under  a  veri- 
table haystack  of  hat,  who  ostensibly  at  least  was  a 
sworn  friend  of  the  mining  company.  With  him  we 
returned  to  the  deafening  stamp-mill  and  brought 
up  in  the  "  zinc  room,"  where  the  metal  is  cast  into 
bricks.  Here  the  stealing  of  ore  by  workmen  is 
particularly  prevalent,  and  even  the  searching  by 


IN  A  IMEXICAN  MINE  107 

the  trusty  at  the  gate  not  entirely  effective,  for  even 
the  skimming  off  of  the  scum  leaves  the  floor  scat- 
tered with  chips  of  silver  with  a  high  percentage  of 
gold  which  even  the  American  in  charge  cannot  al- 
ways keep  the  men  from  concealing.  Hence  there 
occurs  periodically  the  scene  we  were  about  to  wit- 
ness. 

When  the  native  workmen  of  the  "  zinc  room " 
enter  for  the  day,  they  are  obliged  to  strip  in  one 
chamber  and  pass  on  to  the  next  to  put  on  their 
working  clothes,  reversing  the  process  when  they 
leave.  To-day  all  five  of  them  were  herded  together 
in  one  dressing-room,  of  which,  the  three  of  us  being 
admitted,  the  door  was  locked.  The  jefe  politico, 
as  the  government  authority  of  the  region,  set  about 
searching  them,  and  as  his  position  depended  on  the 
good-will  of  the  powerful  mining  company,  it  was  no 
perfunctory  "  frisking."  The  ragged  fellows  were 
called  up  one  by  one  and  ordered  to  strip  of  blouses, 
shirts,  and  trousers,  and  even  borrachas,  their  flat 
leather  sandals,  the  jefe  examining  carefully  even 
the  seams  of  their  garments.  Indeed,  he  even 
searched  the  hairs  of  their  bodies  for  filings  of  "  high- 
grade." 

The  men  obeyed  with  dog-like  alacrity,  though 
three  of  them  showed  some  inner  emotion,  whether 
of  guilt,  fear,  or  shame,  it  was  hard  to  guess.  Two 
had  been  carefull}^  gone  over  without  the  discovery 
of  anything  incriminating,  when  the  jefe  suddenly 


108       TRAMPING  THROUGH  MEXICO 

snatched  up  the  hat  of  the  first  and  found  in  it  a 
knotted  handkerchief  containing  a  scrap  of  pure 
metal  some  two  inches  long.  From  then  on  his  luck 
increased.  The  fourth  man  had  been  fidgeting  about, 
half  disrobing  before  the  order  came,  when  all  at 
once  the  local  authority  turned  and  picked  up  a 
piece  of  ore  as  large  as  a  silver  dollar,  wrapped  in 
paper,  which  the  fellow  had  surreptitiously  tossed 
away  among  a  bunch  of  mats  against  the  wall.  The 
jcfe  cuffed  him  soundly  and  ordered  him  to  take  off 
his  shoes  —  he  was  the  only  one  of  the  five  sporting 
that  luxury  —  and  discovered  in  the  toe  of  one  of 
them  a  still  larger  boot}'.  The  last  of  the  group  was 
a  cheery  little  fellow  barely  four  feet  high,  likable 
in  spite  of  his  ingrained  lifetime  lack  of  soap.  He 
showed  no  funk,  and  when  ordered  to  undress  turned 
to  the  "gringo"  manager  with:  "Me  too,  jefe.'' " 
Then  he  quickly  stripped,  proving  himself  not  only 
honest  but  the  biggest  little  giant  imaginable.  He 
had  a  chest  like  a  wine-barrel  and  legs  that  resembled 
steel  poles,  weighed  fifty-two  kilos,  yet  according  to 
the  manager,  of  whom  he  was  one  of  the  trusties, 
frequently  carried  four-hundred-pound  burdens  up 
the  long  hill  below  the  mine.  The  jefe  found  some- 
thing tied  up  in  his  old  red  cloth  belt,  but  little  Bar- 
rel-chest never  lost  his  smile,  and  the  suspicious  lump 
proved  to  be  a  much-folded  old  chromo  print  of  some 
saint. 

"  What 's  he  got  that  for  ?  "  asked  the  manager. 


IN  A  MEXICAN  MINE  109 

"  To  save  him  from  the  devil,"  sneered  the  jefe, 
wadding  it  up  and  tossing  it  back  at  him. 

When  he  was  dressed  again  the  little  giant  was 
sent  to  town  for  policemen,  a  sign  of  confidence  which 
seemed  greatly  to  please  him.  For  a  half  hour  we 
smoked' and  joked  and  discussed,  like  so  many  cattle 
in  the  shambles,  the  three  prisoners,  two  found  guilty 
and  the  third  suspected,  who  stood  silent  and 
motionless  against  the  wall.  Three  policemen  in 
shoddy  uniforms,  armed  with  clubs  and  enormous 
revolvers  sticking  out  through  their  short  coat-tails, 
at  length  appeared,  of  the  same  class  and  seeming 
little  less  frightened  than  the  prisoners.  They  were 
ordered  to  tie  ropes  about  the  waists  of  the  criminals 
and  stood  clutching  these  and  the  tails  of  the  red 
sarapes,  when  the  jefe  interrupted  some  anecdote  to 
shout  the  Spanish  version  of: 

"  What  in are  you  waiting  for?  " 

They  dodged  as  if  he  had  thrown  a  brick,  and  hur- 
ried their  prisoners  away  to  the  cold,  flea-ridden, 
stone  calaboose  of  the  town,  where  in  all  probability 
they  lay  several  months  before  their  case  was  even 
called  up ;  while  the  manager  and  I  ascended  to  his 
veranda  and  flower-grown  residence  and  sat  down  to 
a  several  course  dinner  served  by  a  squad  of  solemn 
servants.  As  in  many  another  land,  it  pays  to  be 
a  white  man  in  Mexico. 

Stealing  is  rarel}^  a  virtue.  But  it  was  not  hard 
to  put  oneself  in  the  place  of  these  wretches  and 


110       TRAMPING  THROUGH  MEXICO 

catch  their  point  of  view  that  made  such  thievery 
justifiable.  As  they  saw  it,  these  foreigners  had 
made  them  go  down  into  their  own  earth  and  dig 
out  its  treasures,  paid  them  little  for  their  labors, 
and  searched  them  whenever  they  left  that  they 
should  not  keep  even  a  little  bit  of  it  for  themselves. 
Now  they  had  made  their  own  people  shut  them  up 
because  they  had  picked  up  a  few  dollars'  worth  of 
scraps  left  over  from  the  great  burro-loads  of  which, 
to  their  notion,  the  hated  "  gringoes  "  were  robbing 
them.  Like  the  workingmen  of  England,  they  were 
only  "  getting  some  of  their  own  back."  They  were 
no  doubt  more  "  aficionados  al  pulque  "  and  gam- 
bling than  to  their  families,  but  so  to  some  extent 
were  the  "  gringoes "  also,  and  they  were  by  no 
means  the  only  human  beings  who  would  succumb  to 
the  same  temptation  under  the  same  circumstances. 
The  ancient  "  Peregrina  "  mine  was  different  from 
"  Pingiiico."  Here  we  entered  by  a  level  opening 
and  walked  down  most  of  the  two  thousand  feet, 
much  of  it  by  narrow,  slimy,  slippery,  stone  steps, 
in  some  places  entirely  worn  away  by  the  bare  feet 
of  the  many  generations  of  peons  that  as  slaves  to 
the  Spaniards  of  colonial  days  used  to  carry  the  ore 
up  on  their  backs  from  the  very  bottom  of  the  mine. 
"  Peregrina "  mountain  was  almost  another  Mam- 
moth Cave,  so  enormous  are  the  caverns  that  have 
been  "  stoped  out "  of  it  in  the  past  four  centuries. 
In  many  a  place  we  could  see  even  with  several  can- 


The  wall  of  Guadalajara  penitentiary  against  which  prisoners  are 

shot 


The  liver-shaking  stage-coach  from  Ateqiiisa  to  Chapala 


IN  A  MEXICAN  INIINE  113 

dies  only  the  ground  underfoot  and  perhaps  a  bit  of 
the  nearest  sidewall ;  the  rest  was  a  dank,  noiseless, 
blank  space,  seeming  square  miles  in  extent.  For 
three  hours  we  wandered  up  and  down  and  in  and 
out  of  huge  unseen  caves,  now  and  then  crawling  up 
or  down  three  or  four  hundred  foot  "  stopes  "  on 
hands  and  knees,  by  ladders,  stone  steps,  or  toe- 
holes  in  the  rock.  Through  it  all  it  was  raining 
much  of  the  time  in  torrents  —  in  the  mine,  that  is, 
for  outside  the  sun  was  shining  brightly  —  with  mud 
underfoot  and  streams  of  water  running  along  much 
of  the  way ;  and,  unlike  the  sweltering  interior  of 
"  Pingiiico,"  there  was  a  dank  dungeon  chill  that 
reached  the  marrow  of  the  bones.  Even  in  the 
shafts  which  we  descended  in  buckets,  cold  water 
poured  down  upon  us,  and,  far  from  being  naked, 
the  miners  wore  all  the  clothing  they  possessed. 
Here  the  terror  of  the  peons  was  an  old  American 
mine-boss  rated  "  loco "  among  them,  who  went 
constantly  armed  with  an  immense  and  ancient  re- 
volver, always  loaded  and  reputed  of  "  hair  trigger," 
which  he  drew  and  whistled  in  the  barrel  whenever  he 
wished  to  call  a  workman.  A  blaze  crackling  in  the 
fireplace  was  pleasant  during  the  evening  in  the  man- 
ager's house,  for  "  Peregrina  "  lies  even  higher  above 
the  sea  than  "  Pingiiico  " ;  but  even  here  by  night  or 
day  the  peons,  and  especially  the  women,  went  bare- 
foot and  in  thinnest  garb. 

A  native  horse,  none  of  which  seem  noted  for  their 


lU       TRAMPING  THROUGH  MEXICO 

speed,  carried  me  out  to  the  famous  old  mining  town 
of  La  Luz,  where  the  Spaniards  first  bagan  digging 
in  this  region.  The  animal  made  little  headway 
forward,  but  fully  replaced  this  by  the  distance  cov- 
ered up  and  down.  To  it  a  trot  was  evidently  an 
endeavor  to  see  how  many  times  and  how  high  it 
could  jump  into  the  air  from  the  same  spot.  The 
ancient  Aztecs,  seeing  us  advancing  upon  them, 
would  never  have  made  the  mistake  of  fancying  man 
and  horse  parts  of  the  same  animal.  Moreover,  the 
pesky  beast  had  an  incurable  predilection  for  tread- 
ing, like  a  small  boy  "  showing  off,"  the  extreme  edge 
of  pathways  at  times  not  six  inches  from  a  sheer  fall 
of  from  five  hundred  to  a  thousand  feet  down  rock- 
faced  precipices. 

Still  it  was  a  pleasant  three-hour  ride  in  the  bril- 
liant sunshine,  winding  round  and  over  the  hills  along 
pitching  and  tossing  trails.  Peons  obsequiously 
lifted  their  hats  when  I  passed,  which  they  do  not  to 
a  man  afoot ;  a  solemn  stillness  of  rough-and-tumble 
mountains  and  valleys,  with  deep-shadowed  little 
gorges  scolloped  out  of  the  otherwise  sun-flooded 
landscape,  broad  hedges  of  cactus  and  pitching 
paths,  dow^n  which  the  animal  picked  its  way  with 
ease  and  assurance,  alternated  with  mighty  climbs 
over  a  dozen  rises,  each  of  which  I  fancied  the  last. 

La  Luz  is  a  tj'pical  town  of  mountainous  Mexico. 
A  long,  broken  adobe  village  lies  scattered  along  a 
precipitous    valley,    scores    of   "  roads "    and    trails 


IN  A  MEXICAN  MINE  115 

hedged  with  cactus  wind  and  swoop  and  climb  again 
away  over  steep  hills  and  through  deep  harrancos, 
troops  of  peons  and  donkeys  enlivening  them ;  flowers 
give  a  joyful  touch,  and  patches  of  green  and  the 
climate  help  to  make  the  place  reminiscent  of  the 
more  thickly  settled  portions  of  Palestine.  From 
the  town  we  could  see  plainly  the  city  of  Leon, 
fourth  in  Mexico,  and  a  view  of  the  plain,  less  strik- 
ing than  that  from  "  Pingiiico,"  because  of  the  range 
rising  to  cut  it  off  in  the  middle  distance.  The 
mountains  of  all  this  region  are  dotted  with  round, 
white,  cement  monuments,  the  boundary  marks  of 
different  mining  properties.  By  ]Mexican  law  each 
must  be  visible  from  the  adjoining  two,  and  in  this 
pitched  and  tumbled  country  this  requires  many. 

Beyond  the  village  we  found,  about  the  old  Span- 
ish workings,  ancient,  roofless,  stone  buildings  with 
loop-holed  turrets  for  bandits  and  nitches  for  saints. 
These  structures,  as  well  as  the  waste  dumped  b}' 
the  Spaniards,  were  being  "  repicked  for  values," 
and  broken  up  and  sent  through  the  stamp-mill,  the 
never-ending  rumble  of  which  sounded  incessantl}', 
like  some  distant  water-fall ;  for  with  modern  methods 
it  pays  to  crush  rock  with  even  a  few  dollars  a  ton 
value  in  it,  and  the  Americans  of  to-day  mine  much 
that  the  Spaniards  with  their  crude  methods  cast 
aside  or  did  not  attempt  to  work.  At  a  mine  in  the 
vicinity  the  ancient,  stone  mansion  serving  as  resi- 
dence of  the  superintendent  was  torn  down  and  sent 


116       TRAMPING  THROUGH  MEXICO 

through  the  stamping-mill,  and  a  now  one  of  less 
valuable  rock  erected.  We  descended  1600  feet  into 
the  mine  of  La  Luz  down  a  perfectly  round,  stone- 
lined  shaft  in  a  small  iron  bucket  held  by  a  one-inch 
wire  cable  and  entirely  in  charge  of  peons  —  who 
fortunately  either  had  nothing  against  us  or  did  not 
dare  to  vent  it. 


CHAPTER  IV 

KOUND    ABOUT    LAKE    CHAPALA 

WITH  the  coming  of  November  I  left  Guana- 
juato behind.  The  branch  line  down  to 
Silao  was  soon  among  broad  plains  of  corn,  with- 
out rocks  even  along  the  flat,  ragged,  country  roads, 
bringing  to  mind  that  it  was  long  since  I  had  walked 
on  level  and  unobstructed  ground.  The  crowding 
of  the  second-class  car  forced  me  to  share  a 
bench  with  a  chorus  girl  of  the  company  that  had 
been  castilianizing  venerable  Broadway  favorites  in 
Guanajuato's  chief  theater.  She  was  about  forty, 
looked  it  with  compound  interest,  was  graced  with 
the  form  of  a  Panteon  mummy,  and  a  face  —  but 
some  things  are  too  horrible  even  to  be  mentioned  in 
print.  Most  of  the  way  she  wept  copiously,  appar- 
ently at  some  secret  a  pocket  mirror  insisted  on  re- 
peating to  her  as  often  as  she  drew  it  out,  and  re- 
gained her  spirits  only  momentarily  during  the 
smoking  of  each  of  several  cigarettes.  Finall}'  she 
took  to  saying  her  beads  in  a  sepulchral,  moaning 
voice,  her  eyes  closed,  and  wagging  her  head  from 
side  to  side  in  the  rhythm  of  her  professional  calling, 

117 


118       TRAMPING  THROUGH  MEXICO 

until  we  pulled  into  the  one-story,  adobe,  checker- 
board town.  All  the  troupe  except  the  two  "  stars  " 
rode  second-class,  dressed  much  like  peons,  and  car- 
ried their  possessions  in  misshapen  bundles  under 
their  arms.  If  the  one  performance  I  had  seen  was 
typical,  this  was  far  better  treatment  than  they  de- 
served. 

The  express  from  El  Paso  and  the  North  set  me 
down  in  the  early  night  at  Irapuato,  out  of  the  dark- 
ness of  which  bobbed  up  a  dozen  old  women,  men, 
and  boys  with  wailing  cries  of  "  Fresas !  "  For  this 
is  the  town  of  perennial  strawberries.  The  basket 
of  that  fruit  heaped  high  and  fully  a  foot  in  diameter 
which  sat  before  me  next  morning  as  we  rambled 
away  westward  toward  Guadalajara  cost  cuatro 
reales  —  a  quarter,  and  if  the  berries  grew  symmet- 
rically smaller  toward  the  bottom,  an  all-day  ap- 
petite by  no  means  brought  to  light  the  tiniest. 
The  way  lay  across  a  level  land  bathed  in  sunshine, 
of  extreme  fcrtilit}',  and  watered  by  harnessed 
streams  flowing  down  from  the  distant  hills.  All  the 
day  one  had  a  sense  of  the  richness  of  nature,  not  the 
prodigality  of  the  tropics  to  make  man  indolent,  but 
just  suflScient  to  give  full  reward  for  reasonable  ex- 
ertion. The  rich,  black,  fenceless  plains  were  burn- 
ished here  and  there  with  little  shallow  lakes  of  the 
rainy  season,  and  musical  with  wild  birds  of  many 
species.  Primitive  well-sweeps  punctuated  the  land- 
scape,   and   now    and    then    the    church    towers    of 


ROUND  ABOUT  LAKE  CHAP  ALA      119 

some  adobe  village  peered  through  the  mesquite  trees. 
In  the  afternoon  grazing  grew  more  frequent  and 
herds  of  cattle  and  flocks  of  goats  populated  all  the 
scene.  Within  the  car  and  without,  the  hats  of  the 
peons,  with  all  their  sameness,  were  never  exactly 
alike.  Each  bore  some  individuality,  be  it  in  shape, 
shade,  material,  or  manner  of  wearing,  as  distinct 
as  among  the  fair  sex  in  other  lands ;  and  that  with- 
out resorting  to  decorating  them  with  flowers,  vege- 
tables, or  dead  birds.  Some  wore  around  them  rib- 
bons with  huge  letters  proposing,  "  Viva "  this 

or  that  latest  aspirant  to  the  favor  of  the  primitive- 
minded  "  pela'o,"  but  these  were  always  arranged 
in  a  manner  to  add  to  rather  than  detract  from 
the  artistic  ensemble.  i\Iany  a  young  woman  of 
the  same  class  was  quite  attractive  in  appearance, 
though  thick  bulky  noses  robbed  all  of  the  right  to  be 
called  beautiful.  They  did  not  lose  their  charms, 
such  as  they  were,  premature!}',  as  do  so  many  races 
of  the  South,  and  the  simplicity  of  dress  and  hair 
arrangement  added  much  to  the  pleasing  general 
effect. 

As  night  descended  we  began  to  pant  upward 
through  low  hills,  wooded,  but  free  from  the  rocks 
and  boulders  of  a  mining  region,  and  in  the  first 
darkness  drew  up  at  Guadalajara,  second  city  of 
IMexico.  It  is  a  place  that  adorns  the  earth. 
Jalisco  State,  of  which  this  is  the  capital,  has  been 
called  the  Andalusia  of  Mexico,  and  the  city  is  in- 


120       TRAMPING  THROUGH  MEXICO 

deed  a  Seville  of  the  West,  though  lacking  in  her 
spontaneity  of  life,  for  this  cruder  people  is  much 
more  tempered  with  a  constant   fear  of  betraying 
their  crudeness   and   in   consequence  much  weighed 
down  by  "  propriety."     But  its  bright,  central  plaza 
has  no  equal  to  the  north.     Here  as  the  band  plays 
amid  the  orange  trees  heavy  with  ripening  fruit,  the 
more  haughty  of  the  population  promenade  the  in- 
ner square,  outside  which  stroll  the  peons  and  "  lower 
classes  " ;  though  only  custom  seems  responsible  for 
the  division.     One  misses  in  Mexico  the  genuine  de- 
mocracy of  Spain.     The  idea  of  a  conquered  race  still 
holds,  and  whoever  has  a  strain  of  white  in  his  veins 
—  or  even  in   the  hue   of  his   collar  —  considers  it 
fitting  to  treat  the  Indian  mass  with  a  cold,  indiffer- 
ent tone  of  superiority.     Yet  in  the  outer  circle  the 
unprejudiced    observer    found    more    pleasing    than 
within.     One  was  reminded  of  Mark  Twain's  sug- 
gestion that  complexions  of  some  color  wear  best  in 
tropical  lands.     In  this,  above  all,  the  women  of  the 
rehozo  were  vastly   superior   to   those  who   stepped 
from  their  carriages  at  about  the  beginning  of  the 
third  number  and  took  to  parading,  the  two  sexes  in 
pairs  marching  in   opposite   directions   at   a   snail's 
pace.     The  "  women  of  the  people  "  had  more  sense 
of  the  fitness  of  things  than  to  ape  the  wealthy  in 
dress,  like  the  corresponding  class  in  our  own  land, 
and  their  simplicity  of  attire  stood  out  in  attractive 


wmmKm'gmn^.  ijUHunjai!* '^-r* «■■!*"■*•■ 


tt<V"*y  wfU'^WWH 


Lake  Chapala  from  the  estate  of  Riboro  ("astellaiios 


"■■~i  ■ 


Tlie  liead  fanner  of  llie  estate  uiuler  an  a;;<'(l  li^-lree 


ROUND  ABOUT  LAKE  CHAPALA   123 

contrast  to  the  pasty  features  and  unexercised 
figures  in  "  Parisian  "  garb  of  the  inner  circle. 

Guadalajara  has  the  requisites  of  a  real  citj. 
Its  streets  are  well  paved  with  macadam,  and  it  even 
possesses  garbage  wagons.  Indeed,  in  some  respects 
it  has  carried  "  progress  "  too  far,  as  in  the  case  of 
the  winking  electric  sign  of  Broadway  proportions 
advertising  a  camiseria  —  a  local  "  shirtery,"  before 
which  fascinated  peons  from  the  distant  vDlages 
stand  gazing  as  at  one  of  the  seven  wonders  of  the 
universe.  Beggars  are  few  and  there  is  none  of  the 
oppressive  poverty  of  other  Mexican  cities.  This, 
it  is  agreed,  is  due  not  merely  to  the  extreme  fertility 
of  Jalisco,  but  to  the  kindness  of  nature  in  refusing 
to  produce  the  maguej'  in  the  vicinity,  so  that  drunk- 
enness is  at  its  lowest  Mexican  ebb  and  the  sour 
stink  of  pulque  shops  nowhere  assails  the  nostrils. 
For  this  curse  of  the  peon  will  not  endure  long  trans- 
portation. An  abundance  of  cheap  labor  makes 
possible  many  little  conveniences  unknown  in  more 
industrial  lands,  and  the  city  has  a  peaceful,  sooth- 
ing air  and  temperature,  due  perhaps  to  its  ideal  alti- 
tude of  six  thousand  feet,  that  makes  life  drift  along 
like  a  pleasant  dream. 

But  its  nights  are  hideous.  The  Mexican  seems 
to  relish  constant  uproar,  and  if  Guadalajara  is 
ever  to  be  the  open-air  health  resort  for  fra3'ed 
nerves  and  weakened  lungs  it  aspires  to,  there  must 


lU       TRAMPING  THROUGH  MEXICO 

come  a  diligent  suppression  of  unnecessary  noises. 
As  the  evening  gathering  evaporates,  leaving  the 
plaza  sprinkled  with  a  few  dreamy  mortals  and  scat- 
tered policemen  eating  the  lunch  their  wives  bring 
and  share  with  them,  pandemonium  seems  to  be  re- 
leased from  its  confinement.  First  these  same  pre- 
servers of  law  and  order  take  to  blowing  their  hair- 
raising  whistles  at  least  every  ten  minutes  from  one 
to  another  back  and  forth  through  every  street,  as 
if  mutually  to  keep  up  their  courage.  Scores  of  the 
gilded  youth  on  the  way  home  from  "  plajnng  the 
bear"  before  their  favorite  rejas  join  together  in 
bands  to  howl  their  glee  at  the  kindness  of  life  into 
the  small  hours,  the  entire  stock  of  street-cars  seems 
to  be  sent  out  nightly  on  some  extended  excursion 
with  orders  never  to  let  their  gongs  fall  silent,  and 
long  before  dawn  even  the  few  who  have  succeeded 
in  falling  into  a  doze  are  snatched  awake  by  an  atro- 
cious din  of  church-bells  sufficient  in  number  to  sup- 
ply heaven,  nirvana,  the  realm  of  houris,  and  the 
Irish  section  of  purgatory,  with  enough  left  over  to 
furnish  boiling  pots  for  the  more  crowded  section  of 
the  Hereafter,  Then  with  a  dim  suggestion  of  dawn 
every  living  dog  and  fighting-cock,  of  which  each 
inhabitant  appears  to  possess  at  least  a  score,  joins 
the  forty-thousand  vendors  of  forty  thousand  differ- 
ent species  of  uselcssness  howling  in  at  least  as  many 
different  voices  and  tones,  each  a  bit  louder  than 
all   the  others,  until  even  an  unoccupied  wanderer 


ROUND  ABOUT  LAKE  CHAPALA   125 

concludes  that  sleep  is  an  idle  waste  of  an  all  too 
short  existence. 

I  brought  up  a  day  of  random  wandering  in 
state's  prison.  The  Penitenciaria  of  Guadalajara 
is  a  huge,  wheel-shaped  building  in  the  most  modern 
style  of  that  class  of  architecture.  The  bullet- 
headed  youth  in  soldier's  uniform  and  the  complexion 
of  a  long-undusted  carpet,  leaning  on  his  musket  at 
the  entrance,  made  no  move  to  halt  me,  and  I  stepped 
forth  on  a  patio  forested  with  orange  trees,  to  find 
that  most  of  the  public  had  preceded  me,  including 
some  hundred  fruit,  tortilla,  cigarette,  and  candy 
vendors.  Here  was  no  sign  of  prisoners.  I  ap- 
proached another  stern  boy  armed  like  a  first-class 
cruiser  in  war  time  and  he  motioned  upward  with 
his  gun  barrel.  The  dwelling  of  the  comandante 
faced  the  patio  on  the  second-story  corridor.  His 
son,  aged  five,  met  me  with  the  information : 

"  Papa  'sta  dormido." 

But  he  was  misinformed,  for  when  his  mother  in- 
troduced me  into  the  parlor,  father,  in  shirt-sleeves, 
was  already  rubbing  the  sleep  out  of  his  eyes  and 
preparing  to  light  the  first  after-siesta  cigarette. 
When  my  impressiveness  had  penetrated  his  re- 
awakening intellect,  he  prepared  me  a  document 
which,  reduced  to  succinct  English,  amounted  to  the 
statement  that  the  prison  and  all  it  contained  was 
mine  for  the  asking. 

A  whiff  of  this  sesame  opened  like  magic  the  three 


126       TRAMPING  THROUGH  MEXICO 

immense  iron  doors  through  anterooms  in  charge 
of  trusties,  in  prison  garb  of  the  material  of  blue 
overalls  and  caps  shaped  like  a  low  fez.  Inside,  a 
"  preso  de  confianza  "  serving  as  turnkey  led  the  way 
along  a  great  stone  corridor  to  a  little  central  patio 
with  flowers  and  a  central  fountain  babbling  mer- 
rily. From  this  radiated  fifteen  other  long-vaulted 
passages,  seeming  each  fully  a  half  mile  in  length ; 
for  with  Latin  love  of  the  theatrical  the  farther  ends 
had  been  painted  to  resemble  an  endless  array  of 
cells,  even  the  numbers  being  continued  above  the 
false  doors  to  minute  infinity.  Besides  these  imag- 
inary ones  there  were  some  forty  real  places  of  con- 
finement on  each  side  of  each  coridor,  three-cornered, 
stone  rooms  with  a  comfortable  cot  and  noticeable 
cleanliness.  The  hundred  or  more  convicts,  wander- 
ing about  or  sitting  in  the  sun  of  the  patio,  were 
only  locked  in  them  by  night.  Whenever  we  entered 
a  corridor  or  a  room,  two  strokes  were  sounded  on 
a  bell  and  all  arose  and  stood  at  attention  until  we 
had  passed.  Yet  the  discipline  was  not  oppressive, 
petty  matters  being  disregarded.  The  corridor  of 
those  condemned  to  be  shot  was  closed  with  an  iron- 
barred  gate,  but  the  inmates  obeyed  with  alacrity 
when  my  guide  ordered  them  to  step  forth  to  be  pho- 
tographed. 

One  of  the  passageways  led  to  the  talleres  or 
workshops,  also  long  and  vaulted  and  well-lighted  by 
windows  high  up  in  the  curve  of  the  arched  roof. 


ROUND  ABOUT  LAKE  CHAPALA   127 

These  showed  the  stone  walls  to  be  at  least  four 
feet  thick,  yet  the  floor  was  of  earth.  On  it  along 
the  walls  sat  men  weaving  straw  ribbons  to  be  sewn 
into  hats  on  the  American  sewing-machines  beyond. 
In  side  rooms  were  blacksmith,  carpenter,  and  tin- 
smith shops  in  which  all  work  was  done  by  hand, 
the  absence  of  machinery  suggesting  to  the  trusty  in 
charge  that  Mexico  is  "  muy  pobre  "  as  compared 
with  other  lands.  Convicts  were  obliged  to  work 
seven  hours  a  day.  Scattered  through  the  building 
were  several  small  patios  with  patches  of  sun,  in 
which  many  prisoners  were  engaged  in  making  in- 
genious little  knickknacks  which  they  were  permitted 
to  sell  for  their  own  benefit.  The  speciality  of  one 
old  fellow  under  life  sentence  was  a  coin  purse  with 
the  slightly  incongruous  device,  "  Viva  la  Inde- 
pendencia ! " 

There  was  a  complete  absence  of  vicious  faces,  at 
least  faces  more  so  than  those  of  the  great  mass  of 
peons  outside.  I  recalled  the  assertions  of  cyn- 
ical American  residents  that  all  Mexicans  are  crim- 
inals and  that  those  in  jail  were  only  the  ones  who 
have  had  the  misfortune  to  get  caught.  Certainly 
there  was  nothing  in  their  outward  appearance  to 
distinguish  the  inmates  from  any  gathering  of  the 
same  class  beyond  prison  walls.  Off  one  corridor 
opened  the  bath  patio,  large,  and  gay  with  sunshine 
and  flowers,  with  a  large  swimming  pool  and  several 
smaller  baths.     The  prisoners  are  required  to  bathe 


128       TRAMPING  THROUGH  MEXICO 

at  least  every  Sunday.  Within  the  penitentiary  was 
a  garden  of  several  acres,  on  the  walls  above  which 
guards  patroled  with  loaded  muskets  and  in  which 
prisoners  raised  every  species  of  fruit  and  vegetable 
known  in  the  region.  The  institution  indeed  was 
fully  self-supporting.  The  kitchen  was  lined  with 
huge  vats  into  which  bushels  of  beans,  corn,  and  the 
like  were  shoveled,  and  like  the  prison  tailor,  shoe, 
and  barber  shops,  was  kept  in  excellent  order.  Sev- 
eral short-time  prisoners,  among  them  many  boys, 
volunteered  to  stand  in  appropriate  attitudes  before 
the  heavy  wall  at  the  end  of  a  three-cornered  court 
where  condemned  men  are  shot  at  three  paces  in  the 
dawn  of  many  an  early  summer  day.  In  one  cor- 
ridor the  prison  band,  entirely  made  up  of  prisoners, 
was  practising,  and  when  I  had  been  seated  in  state 
on  a  wooden  bench  they  struck  up  several  American 
favorites,  ending  with  our  national  hymn,  all  played 
with  the  musical  skill  common  to  the  Mexican  Indian, 
even  among  those  unable  to  read  a  note.  On  the 
whole  the  prison  was  as  cheery  and  pleasant  as  fitted 
such  an  institution,  except  the  women's  ward,  into 
which  a  vicious-looking  girl  admitted  me  sulkily  at 
sight  of  the  comandante's  order.  A  silent,  nonde- 
script woman  of  forty  took  me  in  charge  with  all  too 
evident  ill-will  aiad  marched  me  around  the  patio  on 
which  opened  the  rooms  of  female  inmates,  while 
the  fifty  or  more  of  them  left  off  their  cooking  and 
washing  for  the  male  prisoners  and  stood  at  dis- 


ROUND  ABOUT  LAKE  CHAPALA   129 

gruntled  attention  in  sullen  silence.  Their  quarters 
were  noticeably  dirtier  than  those  of  the  men.  My 
guide  took  leave  of  me  at  the  first  of  the  three  iron 
doors,  having  still  to  postpone  his  exit  a  year  or 
more,  and  these  again,  fortunately,  swung  on  their 
hinges  as  if  by  magic  to  let  pass  only  one  of  the  thou- 
sand of  us  within. 

On  the  mule-car  that  dragged  and  jolted  us  out 
to  the  "  Niagara  of  Mexico  "  were  three  resident 
Germans  who  strove  to  be  "  simpatico  "  to  the  na- 
tives by  a  clumsy  species  of  "  horse  play."  Their 
asininity  is  worth  mention  only  because  among  those 
laughing  at  their  antics  was  a  peon  who  had  been 
gashed  across  the  hand,  half-severing  his  wrist,  yet 
who  sat  on  the  back  platform  without  even  a  rag 
around  the  wound,  though  with  a  rope  tourniquet 
above.  Two  gray  and  decrepit  policemen  rode  with 
him  and  half  way  out  stopped  at  a  stone  hut  to  ar- 
rest the  perpetrator  of  the  deed  and  bring  him  along, 
wrapped  in  the  customary  red  sarape  and  indiffer- 
ence. 

The  waterfall  over  a  broad  face  of  rock  was  pleas- 
ing but  not  extraordinary,  and  swinging  on  my  ruck- 
sack I  struck  off  afoot.  The  lightly  rolling  land  was 
very  fertile,  with  much  corn,  great  droves  of  cattle, 
and  many  shallow  lakes,  its  climate  a  pleasant  cross 
between  late  spring  and  early  fall.  From  El 
Castillo  the  path  lay  along  the  shimmering  railroad, 
on   which  I   outdid  the   train  to   Atequisa   station. 


130       TRAMPING  THROUGH  MEXICO 

The  orange  vendors  lolling  here  under  the  shade  of 
their  hats  gave  the  distance  to  Chapala  as  fifteen 
miles,  and  advised  me  to  hire  a  horse  or  take  passage 
in  the  stage.  This  primitive  bone-shaker,  dark-red 
in  color,  the  body  sitting  on  huge  leather  springs, 
was  drawn  by  four  teams  of  mules  in  tandem,  and  be- 
fore revolution  spread  over  the  land  was  customarily 
packed  to  the  roof  and  high  above  it  with  excursion- 
ists to  Mexico's  chief  inland  watering-place.  Now 
it  dashed  back  and  forth  almost  empty. 

I  preferred  my  own  legs.  A  soft  road  led  be- 
tween orange-groves  —  at  the  station  were  offered 
for  sale  seedless  oranges  compared  to  which  those  of 
California  are  pigmies  —  to  the  drowsing  town  of 
Atequisa.  Through  one  of  its  crumbling  stone  gates 
the  way  spread  at  large  over  its  sandy,  sun-bathed 
plaza,  then  contracted  again  to  a  winding  wide  trail, 
rising  leisurely  into  the  foothills  beyond.  A  farmer 
of  sixty,  homeward  bound  to  his  village  of  Santa 
Cruz  on  a  loose-cared  ass,  fell  in  with  me.  He  lacked 
entirely  that  incommunicative  manner  and  half-re- 
sentful air  I  had  so  often  encountered  in  the  Mexi- 
can, and  his  country  dialect  whilcd  away  the  time  as 
we  followed  the  unfenced  "  road  "  around  and  slowly 
upward  into  hills  less  rugged  than  those  about 
Guanajuato  and  thinly  covered  with  coarse  grass 
and  small  brush.  Twenty-one  years  ago  he  had 
worked  here  as  mozo  for  "  gringoes,"  my  compatriots. 
They  had  offered  him  a  whole  peso  a  day  if  he  would 


ROUND  ABOUT  LAKE  CHAPALA      133 

not  get  married.  But  "  he  and  she  both  wanted," 
so  "que  quiera  uste'  "?  They  had  started  farming 
on  a  little  piece  of  rocky  ridge.  He  would  point  it 
out  to  me  when  we  came  nearer.  By  and  by  he  had 
bought  another  piece  of  land  for  fifty  pesos  and  then 
poco  a  poco  for  forty  pesos  some  more.  Then  for 
twenty-four  pesos  and  fifty  centavos  he  had  bought  a 
cow,  and  the  vaca  before  long  gave  them  a  fine  calf 
and  twelve  cuartillos  of  milk  a  day.  So  that  he  was 
able  to  buy  another  heifer  and  then  an  ox  and  finally 
another  ox  and  — 

Wliack .'  It  took  many  a  thump  and  prod  and 
"  Bur-r-r-r-r-r-o ! "  to  make  the  pretty  little  mouse- 
colored  donkey  he  was  riding  keep  up  with  me  —  and 
what  did  I  think  he  paid  for  him?  Eighteen  pesos! 
Si,  senor,  ni  mas  ni  menos.  A  bargain,  eh?  And 
for  the  other  one  at  home,  which  is  larger,  only 
twenty-two  pesos,  and  for  the  one  they  stole  from 
him,  fifteen  pesos  and  a  bag  of  corn.  And  once  they 
stole  all  three  of  the  hurritos  and  he  ran  half  way  to 
Colima  and  had  them  arrested  and  got  the  animaVitos 
back.  So  that  now  he  had  two  oxen  —  pray  God 
they  were  still  safe  —  and  two  burros  and  three 
pieces  of  land  and  a  good  wife  —  only  yesterday  she 
fell  down  and  broke  her  arm  and  he  had  had  to  cut 
sticks  to  tie  it  up  and  she  would  have  to  work  with- 
out using  it  for  a  long  time  — 

Whack !  "  Anda  bur-r-r-r-r-ro !  "  and  once  he 
owned  it  he  never  could  get  himself  to  sell  an  ani- 


134.       TRAMPING  THROUGH  MEXICO 

malito.  They  were  sometimes  useful  to  plow  and 
plant  anyway,  and  this  life  of  sembrar  and  cosechar 
was  just  the  one  for  him.  The  cities,  bah !  —  though 
he  had  been  twice  to  Guadalajara  and  only  too  glad 
to  get  away  again  —  and  was  n't  I  tired  enough  to 
try  the  burrito  a  while,  I  should  find  her  pace  smooth 
as  sitting  on  the  ground.  No?  Well,  at  least  if  I 
got  tired  I  could  come  and  spend  the  night  in  his 
casita,  a  very  poor  little  house,  to  be  sure,  which  he 
had  built  himself  long  ago,  soon  after  they  were  mar- 
ried, but  there  I  would  be  in  my  own  house,  and  his 
wife  —  or  perhaps  now  he  himself  —  would  ordenar 
'la  "vaca  and  there  would  be  fresh  milk  and  — 

So  on  for  some  seven  or  eight  miles.  Here  and 
there  the  road  passed  through  an  open  gate  as  into 
a  farmyard,  though  there  were  no  adjoining  fences 
to  mark  these  boundaries  of  some  new  hacienda  or 
estate.  From  the  highest  point  there  was  a  pretty 
retrospect  back  on  Atcquisa  and  the  railroad  and  the 
broad  valley  almost  to  far-off  Guadalajara,  and 
ahead,  also  still  far  away,  Lake  Chapala  shimmering 
in  the  early  sunset.  Between  lay  broad,  rolling  land, 
rich  with  flowers  and  shrubbery,  and  with  much  cul- 
tivation also,  one  vast  field  of  ripening  Indian  corn 
surely  four  miles  long  and  half  as  wide  stretching 
like  a  sea  to  its  surrounding  hills,  about  its  edge  the 
leaf  and  branch  shacks  of  its  guardians.  Maize,  too, 
covered  all  the  slope  down  to  the  mountain-girdled 
lake,  and  far,  far  away  on  a  point  of  land,  like  Tyre 


ROUND  ABOUT  LAKE  CHAP  ALA   135 

out  in  the  Mediterranean,  the  twin  towers  of  the 
church  of  Chapala  stood  out  against  the  dimming 
lake  and  the  blue-gray  range  beyond. 

Two  leagues  off  it  the  peasant  pointed  out  the 
ridge  that  hid  his  casita  and  his  animalitos  and  his 
good  wife  —  with  her  broken  arm  now  —  and  regret- 
ting that  I  would  not  accept  his  poor  hospitality, 
for  I  must  be  tired,  he  rode  away  down  a  little  bar- 
ranca walled  by  tall  bushes  with  brilliant  masses  of 
purple,  red,  and  pink  flowers  and  so  on  up  to  the 
little  patch  of  corn  which  —  yes,  surely,  I  could  see 
a  corner  of  it  from  here,  and  from  it,  if  only  I  would 
come,  I  should  see  the  broad  blue  view  of  Chapala 
lake,  and  —  My  road  descended  and  went  down 
into  the  night,  plentifully  scattered  with  loose  stones. 
Before  it  had  grown  really  dark  I  found  myself  cast- 
ing a  shadow  ahead,  and  turned  to  find  an  enormous 
red  moon  gazing  dreamily  at  me  from  the  summit  of 
the  road  behind.  Then  came  the  suburbs  and  enor- 
mous ox-carts  loaded  with  everything,  and  donkeys 
without  number  passing  silent-footed  in  the  sand,  and 
peons,  lacking  entirely  the  half-insolence  and  pulque- 
sodden  faces  of  Guanajuato  region,  greeted  me  un- 
failingly with  "  Adios  "  or  "  Buenas  noches." 

But  once  in  the  cobble-paved  village  I  must  pay 
high  in  the  "  Hotel  Victor  " —  the  larger  ones  being 
closed  since  anarchy  had  confined  the  wealthy  to  their 
cities  —  for  a  billowy  bed  and  a  chicken  centuries 
old  served  by  waiters  in  evening  dress  and  trained- 


136       TRAMPING  THROUGH  MEXICO 

monkey  manners.  The  free  and  easy  old  casa  de 
asistencia  of  Guadalajara  was  far  more  to  my  liking. 
But  at  least  the  landlord  loaned  me  a  pair  of  trunks 
for  a  moonlight  swim  in  Lake  Chapala,  whispering 
some  secret  to  its  sandy  beaches  in  the  silence  of  the 
silver-flooded  night. 

It  is  the  largest  lake  in  Mexico,  second  indeed  only 
to  Titicaca  among  the  lofty  sheets  of  water  of  the 
Western  world.  More  than  five  thousand  feet  above 
the  sea,  it  is  shallow  and  stormy  as  Lake  Erie. 
Waves  were  dashing  high  at  the  foot  of  the  town 
in  the  morning.  Its  fishermen  are  ever  fearful  of 
its  fury  and  go  to  pray  for  a  safe  return  from  every 
trip  before  their  patron  St.  Peter  in  the  twin-spired 
village  church  up  toward  which  the  lake  was  surging 
this  morning  as  if  in  anger  that  this  place  of  refuge 
should  be  granted  its  legitimate  victims. 

Its  rage  made  the  journey  by  water  I  had  planned 
to  Ribera  Castellanos  inadvisable,  even  had  an  owner 
of  one  of  the  little  open  boats  of  the  fishermen  been 
willing  to  trust  himself  on  its  treacherous  bosom,  and 
by  blazing  eleven  I  was  plodding  back  over  the  road 
of  yesterday.  The  orange  vendors  of  Atequisa 
gathered  around  me  at  the  station,  marveling  at  the 
strength  of  my  legs.  In  the  train  I  shared  a  bench 
with  a  dignified  old  Mexican  of  the  country  regions, 
who  at  length  lost  his  reserve  sufficiently  to  tell  me 
of  the  "  niuy  amigo  gringo  "  whose  picture  he  still 
had  on  the  wall  of  his  house  since  the  day  twenty- 


ROUND  ABOUT  LAKE  CHAP  ALA   137 

seven  years  ago  when  mj  compatriot  had  stopped 
with  him  on  a  tour  of  his  native  State,  carrying  a 
small  pack  of  merchandise  which  gave  him  the  en- 
tree into  all  houses,  but  which  he  purposely  held  at 
so  high  a  price  that  none  would  buy. 

From  Ocotlan  station  a  broad  level  highway,  from 
which  a  glimpse  is  had  of  the  sharp,  double  peak  of 
Colima  volcano,  runs  out  to  Ribera  Castellanos. 
Sam  Rogers  was  building  a  tourist  hotel  there.  Its 
broad  lawn  sloped  down  to  the  edge  of  Lake  Chapala, 
lapping  at  the  shores  like  some  smaller  ocean ;  from 
its  verandas  spread  a  view  of  sixty  miles  across  the 
Mexican  Titicaca,  with  all  vacation  sports,  a  per- 
ennial summer  without  undue  heat,  and  such  sunsets 
as  none  can  describe.  The  hacienda  San  Andres, 
also  American  owned,  embraced  thousands  of  acres 
of  rich  bottom  land  on  which  already  many  varieties 
of  fruit  were  producing  marvelously,  as  well  as  sev- 
eral mountain  peaks  and  a  long  stretch  of  lake  front. 
The  estate  headquarters  was  like  some  modern  rail- 
way office,  with  its  staff  of  emplo3'ees.  In  the  near- 
by stables  horses  were  saddled  for  us  and  we  set  off 
for  a  day's  trip  all  within  the  confines  of  the  farm, 
under  guidance  of  the  bulky  Mexican  head  overseer 
in  all  his  wealth  of  national  garb  and  armament. 

For  miles  awaj'  in  several  directions  immense  fields 
were  being  plowed  by  dozens  of  ox-teams,  the  white 
garments  of  the  drivers  standing  out  sharply  against 
the   brown   landscape.     Two   hours'   riding   around 


138       TRAMPING  THROUGH  MEXICO 

the  lagoon  furnishing  water  for  irrigation  brought 
us  to  a  village  of  some  size,  belonging  to  the  estate. 
The  wife  of  one  of  the  bee-tenders  emerged  from  her 
hut  with  bowls  of  clear  rich  honey  and  tortillas,  and 
the  manner  of  a  serf  of  medieval  times  before  her 
feudal  lord.  The  bees  lived  in  hollow  logs  with  little 
thatched  roofs.  For  several  miles  more  the  rich  bot- 
tom lands  continued.  Then  we  began  to  ascend 
through  bushy  foothills,  and  cultivation  dropped  be- 
hind us,  as  did  the  massive  head  overseer,  whose 
weight  threatened  to  break  his  horse's  back.  Well 
up  we  came  upon  the  "  chaparral,"  the  hacienda 
herdsman,  tawny  with  sunburn  even  to  his  leather 
garments.  He  knew  by  name  every  animal  under  his 
charge,  though  the  owners  did  not  even  know  the 
number  they  possessed.  A  still  steeper  climb,  dur- 
ing the  last  of  which  even  the  horses  had  to  be  aban- 
doned, brought  us  to  a  hilltop  overlooking  the  entire 
lake,  with  the  villages  on  its  edge,  and  range  after 
range  of  the  mountains  of  Jalisco  and  Michoacan. 
Our  animals  were  more  than  an  hour  picking  their 
way  down  the  stony  trails  between  all  but  perpendic- 
ular cornfields,  the  leaves  of  which  had  been  stripped 
off  to  permit  the  huge  ear  at  the  top  the  more  fully 
to  ripen.  A  boulder  set  in  motion  at  the  top  of  a 
field  would  have  been  sure  death  to  the  man  or  horse 
it  struck  at  the  bottom. 

The  hotel  launch  set  me  across  the  lake  next  morn- 


ROUND  ABOUT  LAKE  CHAPALA   139 

ing.  From  the  rock-tumbled  fisher-town  of  La 
Palma  an  arriero  pointed  out  to  me  far  away  across 
the  plains  of  Michoacan  a  mountain  of  striking  re- 
semblance to  Mt.  Tabor  in  Palestine,  as  the  land- 
mark on  the  slopes  of  which  to  seek  that  night's 
lodging.  The  treeless  land  of  rich  black  loam  was 
flat  as  a  table,  yet  the  trail  took  many  a  turn,  now  to 
avoid  the  dyke  of  a  former  governor  and  Porfirio 
Diaz,  who  planned  to  pump  dry  this  end  of  the  lake, 
now  for  some  reason  only  those  with  Mexican  blood 
In  their  veins  could  fathom.  Peons  were  fishing  in 
the  Irrigating  ditches  with  machetes,  laying  their 
huge,  sluggish  victims  all  but  cut  in  two  on  the  grass 
behind  them. 

Noon  brought  Sahuayo,  a  large  village  in  an 
agricultural  district,  in  one  of  the  huts  of  which  ten 
cents  produced  soup,  pork,  frijoles,  tortillas,  and 
coffee,  to  say  nothing  of  the  tablecloth  in  honor  of  so 
unexpected  a  guest  and  a  dozen  oranges  for  the 
thirst  beyond.  The  new  trail  struck  off  across  the 
fields  almost  at  right  angles  to  the  one  that  had 
brought  me.  I  was  already  on  the  hacienda  Guara- 
cha,  largest  of  the  State  of  Michoacan,  Including 
within  its  holdings  a  dozen  such  villages  as  this,  but 
the  owner  to  whom  I  bore  a  letter  lived  still  leagues 
distant.  Dwellers  on  the  estate  must  labor  on  It 
when  required  or  seek  residence  elsewhere,  which 
means  far  distant.     All  with  whom  I  spoke  on  the 


140       TRAMPING  THROUGH  MEXICO 

subject,  native  or  foreigners,  seemed  agreed  that  the 
peon  prefers  this  plan  to  being  thrown  on  his  own 
responsibility. 

The  traveler  could  easily  fancy  himself  in  danger 
in  this  vast  fenceless  and  defenseless  space.  Enor- 
mous herds  were  visible  for  miles  in  every  direction, 
bulls  roamed  here  and  there,  bellowing  moodily,  cat- 
tle and  horses  by  hundreds  waded  and  grazed  in  the 
shallow  swamps  across  which  the  dylced  path  led. 
All  the  brilliant  day  "  Mt.  Tabor  "  stood  forth  in  all 
its  beauty  across  the  plain  in  this  clear  air,  and  the 
sun  brought  sweat  even  at  more  than  a  mile  above 
the  sea. 

I  was  in  the  very  heart  of  Birdland.  These  broad, 
table-flat  stretches  of  rich  plateau,  now  half  inun- 
dated, seemed  some  enormous  outdoor  aviary. 
Every  species  of  winged  creature  one  had  hoped  ever 
to  see  even  in  Zoo  cages  or  the  cases  of  museums 
seemed  here  to  live  and  fly  and  have  its  songful  being. 
Great  sluggish  sopilotes  of  the  horrid  vulture  family 
strolled  or  circled  lazily  about,  seeking  the  scent  of 
carrion.  Long-legged,  snow-white  herons  stood  in 
the  marshes.  Great  flocks  of  small  black  birds  that 
could  not  possibly  have  numbered  less  than  a  hundred 
thousand  each  rose  and  fell  and  undulated  in  waves 
and  curtains  against  the  background  of  mountains 
beyond,  screening  it  as  by  some  great  black  veil. 
There  were  blood-red  birds,  birds  blue  as  turquoise, 
some  of  almost  lilac  hue,  every  grassy  pond  was  over- 


Making  glazed  floor  liles  on  a  Mexican  estate 


Vast  seas  of  Indian  corn  stretch  1o  ])ine-clad  hiUs,   while  around 
them  are  guard-shacks  at  frecjuent  intervals 


ROUND  ABOUT  LAKE  CHAP  ALA   143 

spread  with  wild  ducks  so  tame  they  seemed  waiting 
to  be  picked  up  and  caressed,  eagles  showed  off  their 
spiral  curves  in  the  sky  above  like  daring  aviators 
over  some  admiring  field  of  spectators ;  everywhere 
the  stilly  hum  of  semi-tropical  life  was  broken  only 
by  the  countless  and  inimitable  bird  calls. 

As  my  shadow  grew  ungainly,  the  dyked  path 
struck  across  a  long  wet  field  against  the  black  soil 
of  which  the  dozens  of  white-clad  peons  with  their 
mattocks  gleamed  like  grains  of  rice  on  an  ebony  sur- 
face. Bc3'ond,  it  entered  foothills,  flanked  a  peak, 
and  joined  a  wide  road  leading  directly  to  an  im- 
mense cluster  of  buildings  among  trees.  The  sun 
was  firing  the  western  horizon.  From  every  direc- 
tion groups  of  white-garbed  peons  were  drawing  like 
homing  pigeons  toward  this  center  of  the  visible 
landscape.  I  reached  it  with  them  and,  passing 
through  several  massive  gates,  mounted  through  a 
corral  or  cobbled  stable  yard  with  many  bulky,  two- 
wheeled  carts  and  fully  two  hundred  mules,  then  up 
an  inclined,  cobbled  way  through  a  garden  of  flowers 
to  the  immense  pillared  veranda  with  cement  floor  of 
the  owner's  hacienda  residence. 

The  building  was  in  the  form  of  a  hollow  square, 
enclosing  a  flowery  patio  as  large  as  many  a  town 
plaza.  Don  DIcgo  was  not  at  home,  nor  indeed  were 
any  of  his  immediate  family,  who  preferred  the  ur- 
ban pleasures  of  Guadalajara.  The  Indian  door- 
tender  brought  me  to  "  Don  Carlos,"  a  fat,  cheerful 


144       TRAMPING  THROUGH  MEXICO 

man  of  forty  in  a  white  jacket,  close-fitting  trousers, 
and  an  immense  revolver  attached  to  the  left  side  of 
his  broad  and  heavily  weighted  cartridge-belt.  I 
presented  my  letter  of  introduction  from  an  Ameri- 
can friend  of  the  owner  and  was  soon  entangled  in  the 
coils  of  Mexican  pseudo-politeness.  Don  Carlos  tore 
himself  away  from  his  priceless  labors  as  manager  of 
the  hacienda  and  took  me  up  on  the  flat  roof  of  the 
two-story  house,  from  which  a  fine  view  was  had  for 
miles  in  all  directions ;  indeed,  nearly  a  half  of  the 
estate  could  be  seen,  with  its  peon  villages,  its  broad 
stretches  of  new-plowed  fields,  and  the  now  smoke- 
less chimney  of  the  sugar  mill  among  the  trees. 

The  interest  of  the  manager  did  not  extend  beyond 
the  cut-and-dricd  formalities  common  to  all  Mexi- 
cans. In  spite  of  his  honeyed  words,  it  was  evident 
he  looked  upon  me  as  a  necessary  evil,  purposely 
come  to  the  hacienda  to  seek  food  and  lodging,  and 
to  be  gotten  rid  of  as  soon  as  possible,  compatible 
with  the  sacred  Arabian  rules  of  hospitality.  I  had 
not  yet  learned  that  a  letter  of  introduction  in  Latin 
America,  given  on  the  slightest  provocation,  is  of 
just  the  grade  of  importance  such  custom  would 
warrant.  Not  that  Don  Carlos  was  rude.  Indeed, 
he  strove  outwardly  to  be  highly  simpdtico.  But 
one  read  the  insincerity  underneath  by  a  kind  of  in- 
tuition, and  longed  for  the  abrupt  but  honestly 
frank  Texan. 

The  two  front  corners  of  the  estate  residence  were 


ROUND  ABOUT  LAKE  CHAPALA   145 

taken  up  by  the  hacienda  store  and  church  respect- 
ively —  a  handy  arrangement  by  virtue  of  which 
whatever  went  out  the  pay  Avindow  to  the  peons  (and 
it  was  not  much)  came  in  again  at  one  or  the  other 
of  the  corner  doors.  Adjoining  the  building  and 
half  surrounding  it  was  an  entire  village,  with  a  flow- 
ery plaza  and  promenades  for  its  Inhabitants.  The 
owners  of  the  estate  were  less  churlishly  selfish  than 
their  prototypes  in  our  own  country,  in  that  they 
permitted  the  public,  which  is  to  say  their  own  work- 
men and  families,  to  go  freely  anywhere  in  the  family 
residence  and  its  patio,  except  into  the  dwelling- 
rooms  proper. 

When  darkness  came  on  we  sat  in  the  piazza  gar- 
den overlooking  the  mule-yard.  The  evening  church 
service  over,  the  estate  priest  came  to  join  us,  put- 
ting on  his  huge  black  "  Texas  "  hat  and  lighting  a 
cigarette  on  the  chapel  threshold.  He  wore  an  in- 
numerable series  of  long  black  robes,  which  still  did 
not  conceal  the  fact  that  the  curve  from  chest  to 
waist  was  the  opposite  of  that  common  to  sculptured 
figures,  and  his  hand-shake  was  particularly  soft  and 
snaky.  He  quickly  took  charge  of  the  conversation 
and  led  it  into  anecdotes  very  few  of  which  could  be 
set  down  by  the  writers  of  modern  days,  denied  the 
catholic  privileges  of  old  Boccaccio  and  Rabelais. 

Toward  eight  supper  was  announced.  But  in- 
stead of  the  conversational  feast  amid  a  company  of 
educated  Mexican  men  and  women  I  had  pictured  to 


146       TRAMPING  THROUGH  MEXICO 

myself  during  the  day's  tramp,  I  was  led  into  a  bare 
stone  room  with  a  long,  white-clothed  table,  on  a 
corner  of  which  sat  in  solitary  state  two  plates  and 
a  salt  cellar.  A  peon  waiter  brought  an  ample, 
though  by  no  means  epicurean,  supper,  through  all 
which  Don  Carlos  sat  smoking  over  his  empty  plate 
opposite  me,  alleging  that  he  never  ate  after  noon- 
day for  dread  of  taking  on  still  greater  weight,  and 
striving  to  keep  a  well-bred  false  politeness  in  the 
voice  in  which  he  answered  my  few  questions.  He 
had  spent  a  year  in  a  college  of  New  Jersey,  but  had 
not  even  learned  to  pronounce  the  name  of  that  State. 
Having  pointed  out  to  me  the  room  I  was  to  occupy, 
he  excused  himself  for  a  *'  momentito,"  and  I  have 
never  seen  him  since. 

Evidently  horrified  at  the  sight  of  a  white  man, 
even  if  only  a  "  gringo,"  traveling  on  foot,  the  man- 
ager had  insisted  on  lending  me  a  horse  and  mozo  to 
the  railroad  station  of  Moreno,  fifteen  miles  distant, 
but  still  within  the  confines  of  the  hacienda.  It  may 
be  also  that  he  gave  orders  to  have  me  out  of  his 
sight  before  he  rose.  At  any  rate  it  was  barely  three 
when  a  knock  at  the  door  aroused  me  and  by  four  I 
stumbled  out  into  the  black  starlit  night  to  find  sad- 
dled for  me  in  the  mule-corral  what  might  by  a  con- 
siderable stretch  of  the  word  be  called  a  horse.  The 
mozo  was  well  mounted,  however,  and  the  family 
chauffeur,  carrying  in  one  hand  a  basket  of  eggs  he 
had  been  sent  to  fetch  the  estate  owner  in  Guadala- 


ROUND  ABOUT  LAKE  CHAP  ALA   147 

jara,  rode  a  magnificent  white  animal.  Without 
even  the  formal  leave-taking  cup  of  coffee,  we  set  off 
on  the  road  to  the  eastward.  For  road  in  Mexico 
always  read  —  at  best  a  winding  stretch  of  dried 
mud  with  narrow  paths  meandering  though  the 
smoother  parts  of  it,  the  whole  tumbled  everywhere 
with  stones  and  rocks  and  broken  by  frequent  unex- 
pected deep  cracks  and  stony  gorges.  My  "  horse  " 
was  as  striking  a  caricature  of  that  species  of  quad- 
ruped as  could  have  been  found  in  an  all-night  search 
in  the  region,  which  indeed  there  was  reason  to  be- 
lieve had  been  produced  in  just  that  manner.  But 
at  least  it  had  the  advantage  of  being  unable  to  keep 
up  with  my  companions,  leaving  me  alone  behind  in 
far  more  pleasant  company. 

We  wound  through  several  long  peon  villages,  mere 
grass  huts  on  the  bare  earth  floors  of  which  the  in- 
habitants lay  rolled  up  in  their  blankets.  I  had  not 
been  supplied  with  spurs,  essential  to  all  horseman- 
ship in  Mexico,  and  was  compelled  at  thirty  second 
intervals  to  prick  up  the  jade  between  my  legs  with 
the  point  of  a  lead  pencil,  the  only  weapon  at  hand, 
or  be  left  behind  entirely.  As  the  stars  dimmed  and 
the  horizon  ahead  took  on  a  thin  gray  streak,  peons 
wrapped  in  their  sarapes  passed  now  and  then  noise- 
lessly in  their  soft  leather  huaraches  close  beside  me. 
In  huts  along  the  way  frowsy,  unwashed  women 
might  be  heard  already  crushing  in  their  stone  mor- 
tars, under  stone  rolling-pins,  maize  for  the  morning 


us      TRAMPING  THROUGH  MEXICO 

atole  and  tortillas,  while  thick  smoke  began  to  wan- 
der lazily  out  from  the  low  doorways.  Swiftly  it 
grew  lighter  until  suddenly  an  immense  red  sun 
leaped  full-grown  above  the  ragged  horizon  ahead, 
just  as  we  sighted  an  isolated  station  building  in  the 
wilderness  that  now  surrounded  us  on  all  sides. 

A  two-car  train  rambled  through  a  light-wooded, 
half-mountainous  country,  stopping  at  every  collec- 
tion of  huts  to  pick  up  or  set  down  a  peon  or  two, 
and  drew  up  at  length  in  Zamora.  It  was  a  popu- 
lous, flat-roofed,  ill-smelling,  typical  Mexican  city 
of  checkerboard  pattern,  on  the  plaza  of  which  faced 
the  "  Hotel  Morelos,"  formerly  the  "  Porfirio  Diaz," 
but  with  that  seditious  name  now  carefully  painted 
over.  Being  barely  a  mile  above  sea-level,  the  town 
has  a  suggestion  of  the  tropics  and  the  temperature 
of  midday  is  distinctly  noticeable. 

Zamora  ranks  as  the  most  fanatical  spot  in 
Michoacan,  which  is  itself  so  throttled  by  the  church 
that  it  is  known  as  the  "  estado  torpe,"  the  torpid 
State.  Its  bishop  is  rated  second  in  all  Mexico  only 
to  that  of  the  sacred  city  of  Guadalupe.  Here  are 
monasteries,  and  monks,  and  nuns  in  seclusion,  priests 
roam  the  streets  in  robes  and  vestments,  form  pro- 
cessions, and  display  publicly  the  "  host  "  and  other 
paraphernalia  of  their  faith;  all  of  which  is  forbid- 
den by  the  laws  of  Mexico.  When  I  emerged  from 
the  hotel,  every  person  in  sight,  from  newsboys  to 
lawyers  in  frock  coats,  was  kneeling  wherever  he  hap- 


ROUND  ABOUT  LAKE  CHAP  ALA      149 

pened  to  be,  on  his  veranda,  on  the  sidewalk,  or  in 
the  middle  of  the  street,  his  hat  laid  on  the  ground 
before  him,  facing  a  high  churchman  in  flowing  robes 
and  a  "  stove-pipe  "  hat  strutting  across  the  plaza 
toward  the  cathedral.  Traveling  priests  wear  their 
regalia  of  office  as  far  as  Yurecuaro  on  the  main  line, 
changing  there  to  civilian  garb. 

Nor  is  the  power  of  the  church  here  confined  to 
things  spiritual.  Vast  portions  of  the  richest  sec- 
tions of  the  State  are  church  owned,  though  osten- 
sibly property  of  the  lawyers  that  control  them. 
Holding  the  reins,  the  ecclesiastics  make  it  impossible 
for  companies  to  open  up  enterprises  except  under 
their  tutelage.  The  population  of  the  State  is  some 
eighty  per  cent,  illiterate,  yet  even  foreigners  find 
it  impossible  to  set  up  schools  for  their  own  em- 
ployees. The  women  of  all  classes  are  almost  with- 
out exception  illiterate.  The  church  refuses  to  edu- 
cate them,  and  sternly  forbids  any  one  else  to  do  so. 
An  American  Catholic  long  resident  reported  even 
the  priests  ignorant  beyond  belief,  and  asserted  that 
usury  and  immorality  was  almost  universal  among 
the  churchmen  of  all  grades.  The  peasants  are 
forced  to  give  a  tenth  of  all  they  produce,  be  it  only 
a  patch  of  corn,  to  the  church,  which  holds  its  stores 
until  prices  are  high,  while  the  poverty-stricken  peon 
must  sell  for  what  he  can  get.  Those  married  by  the 
church  are  forbidden  to  contract  the  civil  ceremony, 
though  the  former  is  unlawful  and  lack  of  the  latter 


150       TRAMPING  THROUGH  MEXICO 

makes  their  children  legally  illegitimate.  The  local 
form  of  worship  includes  many  of  the  barbaric  super- 
stitions of  the  Indians  grafted  on  the  stems  of  Ca- 
tholicism, and  weird  pagan  dances  before  the  altar 
are  a  part  of  many  a  -fiesta.  The  town  has  already 
churches  sufficient  to  house  easily  all  the  population, 
yet  an  immense  new  cathedral  is  building.  The  pur- 
pose of  its  erection,  according  to  the  bishop,  is  "  for 
the  greater  glorification  of  God." 

I  spent  two  days  with  the  American  superintendent 
of  "  Platanal,"  the  electric  plant  run  by  water  power 
a  few  miles  out  of  town  through  fields  of  head-high 
maize.  The  night  before  my  arrival  bandits  had 
raided  the  establishment  and  one  of  them  had  been 
killed.  The  president  of  Zamora  had  profusely 
thanked  the  "  gringo  "  in  charge  when  he  presented 
himself  in  town  with  the  body.  On  pay-day  the 
manager  went  and  came  from  the  bank  with  two  im- 
mense revolvers  and  a  loaded  rifle. 

The  current  supplied  by  the  rapids  of  "  Platanal  " 
is  carried  on  high-tension  wires  to  several  cities  far 
distant,  including  Guanajuato,  a  hundred  miles  away. 
Let  the  dynamo  here  break  down  and  the  cage  of 
"  Pingiiico  "  mine  hangs  suspended  in  its  shaft  and 
Stygian  darkness  falls  in  the  labyrinth  below.  In 
the  rainy  season  lightning  causes  much  trouble,  and 
immense  flocks  of  birds  migrating  south  or  north,  ac- 
cording to  the  period  of  year,  keep  the  repair  gangs 
busy  by  flying  against  the  wires  and  causing  short 


ROUND  ABOUT  LAKE  CHAP  ALA      153 

circuits  through  their  dead  bodies.  Woodpeckers 
cat  away  the  wooden  cross-pieces  on  the  iron  towers 
with  disheartening  rapidity.  The  company  is  phil- 
anthropically  inclined  toward  its  employees.  Even 
the  peons  are  given  two  weeks'  vacation  on  full  pay, 
during  which  manj'  rent  a  patch  of  land  on  the  moun- 
tainside to  plant  with  corn.  A  savings  bank  system 
is  maintained,  strict  sanitation  is  insisted  upon  in 
the  houses  furnished  by  the  company,  and  the 
methods  of  the  haciendas  of  the  region,  of  paying  the 
peon  the  lowest  possible  wages  for  his  labor  and 
produce  and  selling  to  him  at  the  highest  possible 
prices  at  the  estate  store,  thereby  keeping  him  in 
constant  debt  and  a  species  of  slavery,  are  avoided. 
The  result  is  a  permanent  force  of  high  Mexican 
grade.  All  attempts  of  the  company  to  introduce 
schools,  however,  even  on  its  own  property,  have  been 
frustrated  by  the  powerful  churchmen.  A  bright 
young  native  in  the  plant  was  an  expert  at  figures, 
which  he  had  been  surreptitiously  taught  by  his 
"  gringo  "  superior,  but  he  could  not  sign  his  name. 


CHAPTER  iV 

ON    THE    TRAIL   IN    MICHOACAN 

MY  compatriot  strongly  opposed  my  plan  of 
walking  to  Uruapan  —  at  least  without  an 
armed  guard!  The  mountains  were  full  of  bandits, 
the  Tarascan  Indians,  living  much  as  they  did  at  the 
time  of  the  Conquest,  did  not  even  speak  Spanish, 
they  were  unfriendly  to  whites,  and  above  all  dan- 
gerously superstitious  on  the  subject  of  photog- 
raphy. There  are  persons  who  would  consider  it 
perilous  to  walk  the  length  of  Broadway,  and  lose 
sight  even  of  the  added  attraction  of  that  reputed 
drawback. 

I  was  off  at  dawn.  Hundreds  of  Indians  from  the 
interior  had  slept  in  scattered  groups  all  along  the 
road  to  town,  beside  the  produce  they  had  come  to 
sell  on  market  day.  For  it  is  against  the  law  to  be 
found  out  of  doors  in  Zamora  after  ten !  My  com- 
patriot had  twice  fallen  foul  of  the  vigilant  police 
there  and  been  roundly  mulcted  —  once  the  bolt  of 
the  hired  carriage  in  which  he  was  riding  broke,  the 
conveyance  turned  turtle,  mashed  his  foot,  and  cov- 
ered his  face  with  blood,  and  he  was  imprisoned  and 

154 


ON  THE  TRAIL  IN  MICHOACAN      155 

fined  for  "  escandalo."  On  another  occasion  he 
spent  some  time  in  jail  because  his  mozo  behind  him 
accidentally  knocked  over  the  lantern  of  a  policeman 
set  in  the  middle  of  the  street. 

But  let  us  leave  so  straight-laced  a  spot  behind. 
The  rocky  "  road  "  could  not  hold  to  the  same  opin- 
ion for  a  hundred  consecutive  yards,  but  kept  chang- 
ing its  mind  as  often  as  it  caught  sight  of  some 
new  corner  of  the  landscape.  The  Indians,  who 
crowded  the  way  during  the  first  hour,  were  not 
friendly,  but  neither  did  they  show  any  dangerous 
propensities,  and  never  failed  in  greeting  if  spoken 
to  first.  There  were  many  of  them  of  pure  aborig- 
inal blood.  The  stony  road  climbed  somewhat  to 
gain  Tangantzicuaro,  then  stumbled  across  a  flatter 
country  growing  more  wooded  to  Chilota,  a  large 
town  with  a  tiny  plaza  and  curious,  overhanging 
eaves,  reminiscent  of  Japan,  stretching  down  its 
checker-board  streets  in  all  directions. 

The  trail,  which  had  gone  a  mile  or  more  out  of 
its  way  to  visit  the  place,  no  sooner  left  it  than  it 
fell  abruptly  into  the  bed  of  what  in  other  weather 
would  have  been  a  rocky  mountain  torrent,  and  set 
off  with  it  in  a  totally  new  direction,  as  if,  having 
fallen  in  with  congenial  company,  it  had  entirely  for- 
gotten the  errand  on  which  it  had  first  set  forth. 
The  land  was  fertile,  with  much  corn.  In  time  road 
and  river  bed  parted  company,  though  only  after 
several  attempts,  like  old  gossips,  and  the  former 


156       TRAMPING  THROUGH  MEXICO 

took  to  climbing  upward  through  thin  forests  of  pine 
in  which  the  wind  whispered  an  imitation  of  some  dis- 
tant, small  waterfall.  For  some  miles  there  were  no 
houses.  Up  and  down  and  in  and  out  of  valleys  thin 
with  pine  we  wandered,  with  now  and  then  a  rough 
shelter  of  rubbish  and  thatch,  halting  places  of 
traveling  Indians  or  the  guard-houses  of  their  fields, 
while  the  sky  ahead  was  always  filled  half-way  up  by 
peaks  of  many  shapes  wooded  in  every  inch  with 
brightest  evergreens.  Michoacan  is  celebrated  for 
its  forests. 

The  population  showed  no  great  difference  from 
the  peasants  elsewhere.  I  ran  earl}'  into  their  super- 
stitions against  photography,  however,  their  belief, 
common  to  many  uncivilized  races,  being  that  once 
their  image  is  reproduced  any  fate  that  befalls  it 
must  occur  to  them  in  person.  When  I  stepped  into 
a  field  toward  a  man  behind  his  wooden  plow,  he  said 
in  a  very  decided  tone  of  voice,  "  No,  senor,  no 
quiero ! " 

"Why  not?"  I  asked. 

"  Porque  no  quiero,  seiior,"  and  he  swung  the  sort 
of  small  adze  he  carried  to  break  up  the  clods  of  the 
field  rather  loosely  and  with  a  determined  gleam  in 
his  eye.  I  did  not  want  the  picture  so  badly  as  all 
that. 

There  was  no  such  objection  in  the  straggling 
town  made  of  thatch  and  rubbish  I  found  along  the 
way  early  in  the  afternoon.     The  hut  I  entered  for 


ON  THE  TRAIL  IN  MICHOACAN      157 

food  had  an  unleveled  earth  floor,  many  wide  cracks 
in  the  roof,  and  every  inch  within  was  black  with  soot 
of  the  cooking-stove  —  three  large  stones  with  a 
steaming  earthen  pot  on  them.  There  was  came  de 
carnero,  tortillas  and  water,  all  for  five  cents.  The 
weak-kneed  table  was  spread  with  a  white  cloth,  there 
were  several  awkward,  shallow,  home-made  chairs, 
and  against  the  wall  a  large  primitive  sideboard 
with  glistening  brown  earthen  pots  and  carefully 
polished  plates  and  bowls.  When  I  had  photo- 
graphed the  interior,  la  sefiora  asked  if  I  would  take 
a  second  picture,  and  raced  away  to  another  hut. 
She  soon  returned  with  a  very  small  and  poor  ama- 
teur print  of  two  peons  in  Sunday  dress.  One  of 
them  was  her  son,  who  had  been  killed  by  a  falling 
pine,  and  the  simple  creature  fancied  the  magic  con- 
trivance I  carried  could  turn  this  tiny  likeness  into 
a  life-size  portrait. 

Beyond,  were  more  rocks  and  wooded  mountains, 
with  vast  seas  of  Indian  corn  stretching  to  pine-clad 
cliffs,  around  the  "  shores  "  of  which  were  dozens  of 
make-shift  shacks  for  the  guardians  against  theft 
of  the  grain.  Later  I  passed  an  enormous  field  of 
maize,  which  more  than  a  hundred  Indians  of  both 
sexes  and  every  age  that  could  stand  on  its  own  legs 
were  harvesting.  It  was  a  communal  corn-field,  of 
which  there  are  many  in  this  region.  They  picked 
the  ears  from  the  dry  stalks  still  standing  and,  toss- 
ing them  into  baskets,  heaped  them  up  in  various 


158       TRAMPING  THROUGH  MEXICO 

parts  of  the  field  and  at  little  temporary  shanties 
a  bit  above  the  general  level  on  the  surrounding 
"  coast."  As  I  passed,  the  gang  broke  up  and  peons 
in  all  colors,  male,  female,  and  in  embryo,  went  away 
in  all  directions  like  a  scattering  flock  of  birds. 
■^  Thus  far  there  had  been  no  suggestion  of  the 
reputed  dangers  of  the  road.  But  trouble  is  never 
far  off  in  Mexico,  since  the  failure  of  its  rapidly 
changing  governments  to  put  down  bands  of  ma- 
rauders has  given  every  rascal  in  the  country  the  no- 
tion of  being  his  own  master.  The  sun  was  just  set- 
ting when,  among  several  groups  coming  and  going, 
I  heard  ahead  five  peons,  maudlin  with  mescal,  sing- 
ing and  howling  at  the  top  of  their  voices.  As  they 
drew  near,  one  of  them  said  something  to  his  compan- 
ions about  "  armas."  I  fancied  he  was  expressing 
some  idle  drunken  wonder  as  to  whether  I  was  armed 
or  not,  and  as  he  held  a  hand  behind  him  as  if  it 
might  grasp  a  rock,  I  kept  a  weather  eye  on  him  as  we 
approached.  Had  the  weapon  I  carried  in  sight  been 
a  huge  six-shooter,  even  without  cartridges,  it  would 
probably  have  been  more  effective  than  the  toy  au- 
tomatic well  loaded.  As  the  group  passed,  howling 
drunkenly,  a  veritable  giant  of  a  fellow  suddenly 
jumped  toward  me  with  an  oath.  I  drew  my  puta- 
tive weapon,  and  at  the  same  moment  the  hand  I  had 
guessed  to  be  full  of  rock  appeared  with  an  enormous 
revolver,  shining  new.  With  drunken  flourishes  the 
peon  invited  me  to  a  duel.     I  kept  him  unostenta- 


ON  THE  TRAIL  IN  MICHOACAN      15D 

tiously  covered  but  continued  serenely  on  my  way. 
To  have  shown  fear  would  have  been  as  dangerous 
as  for  a  lion-tamer  in  the  cage  with  his  pets.  On 
the  other  hand,  to  have  killed  or  seriously  wounded 
one  of  the  group  would  in  all  likelihood  have  meant 
at  least  a  none-too-well  housed  delay  of  several  years 
in  my  journey,  for  the  courts  of  jNIexico  seldom  ad- 
mit pleas  of  provocation  from  a  "  gringo."  The 
group  bawled  after  me  and  finally,  when  I  was  nearly 
a  hundred  yards  beyond,  the  fellow  fired  four  shots 
in  my  general  direction.  But  as  his  bright  new 
weapon,  like  so  many  furnished  his  class  by  our  en- 
terprising arms  factories,  was  made  to  sell  rather 
than  to  shoot,  and  his  marksmanship  was  distinctly 
tempered  with  mescal  fumes,  the  four  bullets  harm- 
lessly kicked  up  the  dust  at  some  distance  on  as  many 
sides  of  me,  with  danger  chiefly  to  the  several  groups 
of  frightened  peasants  cowering  behind  all  the  rocks 
and  rises  of  ground  in  the  vicinity. 

The  dangers  of  the  road  in  Mexico  are  chiefly 
from  peons  mixed  with  fire-water.  When  he  is  sober, 
the  native's  attitude  verges  on  the  over-cautious. 
But  it  is  a  double  danger  to  the  wandering  "  gringo," 
for  the  reason  above  mentioned,  while  the  native  who 
kills  a  foreigner  not  infrequently  escapes  with  im- 
punity, and  "  gun  toting  "  is  limited  now  among  all 
classes  of  the  men  only  by  the  disparity  between  their 
wealth  and  the  price  of  a  weapon. 

As  I  passed  on  over  the  rise  of  ground  ahead. 


160       TRAMPING  THROUGH  MEXICO 

huddled  groups  of  men,  women,  and  children  fell  in 
after  me  as  if  for  protection  from  their  own  peo- 
ple. At  dusk  I  entered  Par acho  with  a  good  thirty 
miles  behind  me.  It  was  a  quaint  little  town  in  a 
lap  of  valley  surrounded  by  pined  hills  and  with  the 
overhanging  Japanese  eaves  peculiar  to  the  region. 
The  inhabitants  were  entirely  peons  and  Indians, 
none  in  "  European  "  dress.  The  vision  of  being 
carried  into  the  place  with  a  few  stray  bits  of  lead 
lodged  in  one's  anatomy  was  not  alluring,  and  the 
dark  dirty  little  cdrcel  on  the  plaza  looked  equally 
uninteresting. 

I  turned  in  at  the  "  Meson  de  la  Providencia." 
The  keeper  gave  his  attention  chiefly  to  his  little 
liquor  and  corn  shop  wide-opening  on  the  street. 
There  were  several  large  rooms  above,  however,  fac- 
ing the  great  corral  where  mules  and  asses  were 
munching  and  arrieros  had  spread  their  straw  and 
blankets  for  the  night,  and  in  at  least  one  of  them 
was  not  merely  a  wooden-floored  cot  but  two  sheets 
to  go  with  it.  I  bathed  in  the  tin  washbasin  and 
turned  out  redressed  for  a  turn  through  the  town. 
It  swarmed  with  liquor-shops.  Apparently  any  one 
with  nothing  else  to  do  could  set  up  a  little  drunkery 
or  street  stand  without  government  interference. 
There  was  no  pulque,  the  maguey  being  unknown  to 
the  region,  but  bottled  mescal  and  aguardiente  de 
cafia  amply  made  up  for  it.  It  seemed  uncanny  that 
one  could  talk  with  ease  to  these  unlettered  dwellers 


Fall  plowing  near  Patzcuaro 


Modern  transportation  along  the  ancient  highway  from  Tzintzun- 
tzan,  the  former  Tarascan  capital 


ON  THE  TRAIL  IN  MICHOACAN      163 

in  the  wilderness  in  the  same  tongue  learned  in  a 
peaceful  class-room  of  the  far  North.  A  towsled 
woman  or  child  drifted  now  and  then  into  the  meson 
shop  to  buy  a  Mexican-cent's  worth  of  firewood. 
The  woman  who  kept  the  shanty  fonda  down  the 
street  boasted  of  having  lived  nineteen  months  in 
California  in  her  halcyon  days,  but  was  obliged  to 
borrow  enough  of  me  in  advance  to  buy  the  ingre- 
dients of  the  scanty  supper  she  finally  prepared.  By 
eight  the  corral  was  snoring  with  arrieros  and  I 
ascended  to  my  substantial  couch. 

A  wintry  cold  of  the  highlands  hung  over  Paracho 
when  dawn  crawled  in  to  find  me  shivering  under  a 
light  blanket.  As  I  left  the  place  behind,  the  sun 
began  to  peer  through  the  crest  pines  of  a  curiously 
formed  mountain  to  the  east,  and  to  rend  and  tear 
the  heavy  fog  banks  hanging  over  the  town  and  val- 
ley. Peons  tight-wrapped  in  their  blankets  from 
eyes  to  knees  slipped  noiselessly  past.  There  was  a 
penetrating  chill  in  the  air,  the  fields  were  covered 
white  with  what  seemed  to  be  hoar  frost,  and  the 
grassy  way  was  wet  with  dew  as  after  a  heavy 
shower. 

Within  half  an  hour  the  way  began  to  rise  and 
soon  entered  an  immense  pine  forest  without  a  sign 
of  habitation.  Tramping  was  delightful  through 
what  seemed  a  wild,  untamed,  and  unteutonizcd  Harz, 
with  only  the  faint  road  and  an  occasional  stump  to 
show  man  had  passed  that  way  before.     Huge  birds 


164       TRAMPING  THROUGH  MEXICO 

circled  majestically  over  the  wooded  hills  and  valleys 
of  which  the  trail  caught  frequent  brief  but  wide  vis- 
tas. The  road  would  have  just  suited  Hazlitt,  for 
it  never  left  off  winding,  both  in  and  out  through  the 
whispering  forest  and  in  and  out  of  itself  by  num- 
berless paths,  often  spreading  over  a  hundred  yards 
of  width,  and  rolling  and  pitching  like  a  ship  at  sea. 
As  in  most  of  Mexico,  wheeled  traffic  would  here  have 
been  impossible. 

By  eight  I  could  stuff  my  coat  into  my  knapsack. 
The  day's  journey  was  short,  and  twice  I  lay  an 
hour  on  a  grassy  knoll  gazing  at  the  birds  and  lei- 
surely drifting  clouds  above  and  listening  to  the  soft 
whispering  of  the  pines.  Then  an  unraveled  trail 
led  gradually  downward,  fell  in  with  a  broad  sandy 
"  road  "  that  descended  more  sharply  to  a  still  swifter 
cobbled  way,  and  about  me  grew  up  a  land  reminiscent 
of  Ceylon,  with  many  frail  wooden  houses  on  either 
side  among  banana  groves,  fruit  for  sale  before  them, 
and  frequent  streams  of  clear  water  babbling  past. 
But  it  was  only  half-tropical,  and  further  down  the 
way  was  lined  with  huge  trees  resembling  the  elm. 

Uruapan  was  just  high  enough  above  the  real 
tropics  to  be  delightful.  The  attitude  of  its  people, 
too,  was  pleasing.  If  not  exactly  friendly,  they 
lacked  that  sour  incommunicativeness  of  the  higher 
plateau.  Very  few  were  in  modern  costume  and  to 
judge  from  the  crowd  of  boys  that  gathered  round 
me  as  I  wrote  my  notes  in  a  plaza  bench,  the  arrival 


ON  THE  TRAIL  IN  MICHOACAN      165 

of  a  white  man  in  this  largely  Indian  town  was  an 
event  not  to  be  slighted.  There  was  a  general  air  of 
more  satisfaction  with  life  in  the  languid  country 
place  where  nature  rewards  all  labor  quickly  and  well, 
and  where  nearly  all  have  gardens  and  orchards  of 
their  own  to  make  them  independent  of  working  for 
others  at  a  scanty  wage. 

Its  plaza  lies  a  bit  higher  than  the  rest  of  the  town, 
and  from  it  straight  streets  of  one-story  houses,  all 
of  different  slope,  flow  gently  down,  to  be  lost  a  few 
blocks  away  in  greenery.  The  roofs  of  tile  or  a 
long  untapered  shingle  are  not  flat,  as  elsewhere,  but 
with  a  slope  for  the  tropical  rains.  Patio  life  is  well 
developed.  Within  the  blank  walls  of  the  central 
portion  all  the  rooms  open  on  sun-flooded,  inner  gar- 
dens and  whole  orchards  within  which  pass  almost 
all  the  family  activities,  even  to  veranda  dining- 
rooms  in  the  edge  of  the  shade.  Dense  groves  of 
banana  and  coffee  trees  surround  most  of  the  un- 
crowded,  adobe  dwellings.  In  the  outskirts  the 
houses  are  of  wood,  with  sharp-peaked  roofs,  and 
little  hovels  of  mud  and  rubbish  loll  in  the  dense- 
black  cool  shadows  of  the  productive  groves  and  of 
the  immense  trees  that  are  a  feature  of  the  place. 
Flowers  bloom  everywhere,  and  all  vegetation  is  of 
the  deepest  green.  On  every  side  the  town  dies  away 
into  domesticated  jungle  beyond  which  lie  such  pine 
forests,  vast  corn  fields,  and  washed-out  trails  as  on 
the  way  thither  from  Zamora. 


166       TRAMPING  THROUGH  MEXICO 

There  is  not  a  "  sight  "  of  the  slightest  importance 
in  Uruapan.  Bui  the_^lace_.itself.  is  a  sight  worth 
long  travel,  with  its  soft  climate  like  the  offspring 
of  the  wedded  North  and  South,  a  balmy,  gentle  exist- 
ence where  is  only  occasionally  felt  the  hard  reality 
of  life  that  runs  beneath,  when  man  shows  himself 
less  kindly  than  nature.  A  man  offered  to  sell  me 
for  a  song  a  tract  bordering  the  river,  with  a 
"  house  "  ready  for  occupancy,  and  had  the  place 
and  all  that  goes  with  it  been  portable  we  should 
quickly  have  come  to  terms.  For  Uruapan  is  espe- 
cially a  beauty  spot  along  the  little  Cupatitzio,  where 
water  clearer  than  that  of  Lake  Geneva  foams  down 
through  the  dense  vegetation  and  under  little  bridges 
quaint  and  graceful  as  those  of  Japan. 

The  sanitary  arrangements,  of  course,  are  Mexi- 
can. Women  in  bands  wash  clothes  along  the  shady 
banks,  both  sexes  bathe  their  light-chocolate  skins  in 
sunny  pools,  there  were  even  horses  being  scrubbed 
in  the  transparent  stream,  and  below  all  this  others 
dipped  their  drinking  water.  Here  and  there  the 
water  was  led  off  by  many  little  channels  and  over- 
head wooden  troughs  to  irrigate  the  gardens  and  to 
run  little  mills  and  cigarette  factories. 

In  the  outskirts  I  passed  the  city  slaughter-house. 
A  low  stone  wall  separated  from  the  street  a  large 
corral ;  with  a  long  roof  on  posts,  a  stone  floor,  and  a 
rivulet  of  water  down  through  it  occupying  the  cen- 
ter of  the  compound.     The  cattle,  healthy,  medium- 


ON  THE  TRAIL  IN  MICHOACAN      167 

sized  steers  worth  fifteen  dollars  a  head  in  this  sec- 
tion, were  lassoed  around  the  horns  and  dragged 
under  the  roof,  where  another  dexterously  thrown 
noose  bound  their  feet  together  and  threw  them  on 
the  stone  floor.  They  were  neither  struck  nor 
stunned  in  any  way.  When  they  were  so  placed  that 
their  throats  hung  over  the  rivulet,  a  butcher  made 
one  single  quick  thrust  with  a  long  knife  near  the  col- 
larbone and  into  the  heart.  Bo3's  caught  the  blood 
in  earthen  bowls  as  it  gushed  forth  and  handed  it  to 
various  women  hanging  over  the  enclosing  wall.  The 
animal  gave  a  few  agonized  bellows,  a  few  kicks,  and 
died.  Each  was  quickly  skinned  and  quartered,  the 
more  unsavory  portions  at  once  peddled  along  the 
wall,  and  bare-headed  Indians  carried  a  bleeding 
quarter  on  their  black  thick  hair  to  the  hooks  on 
either  side  of  pack  horses  which  boys  drove  off  to 
town  as  they  were  loaded.  There  the  population 
bought  strips  and  chunks  of  the  still  almost  palpitat- 
ing meat,  ran  a  string  through  an  end  of  each  piece, 
and  carried  it  home  under  the  glaring  sun. 

All  this  is  commonplace.  But  the  point  of  the 
scene  was  the  quite  evident  pleasure  all  concerned 
seemed  to  take  in  the  unpleasant  business.  Most  of 
us  eat  meat,  but  we  do  not  commonly  find  our  recrea- 
tion in  slaughter-houses.  Here  whole  crowds  of 
boys,  dogs,  and  noisy  youths  ran  about  the  stone 
floor,  fingering  the  still  pulsating  animal,  mimicking 
its  dying  groans  amid  peals  of  laughter,  wallowing 


168       TRAMPING  THROUGH  MEXICO 

in  its  ebbing  blood,  while  fully  as  large  an  assem- 
blage of  women,  girls,  and  small  children  hung  over 
the  wall  in  a  species  of  ecstatic  glee  at  the  oft-re- 
peated drama.  Death,  especially  a  bloody  one,  ap- 
peared to  awaken  a  keen  enjoyment,  to  quicken  the 
sluggard  pulse  of  even  this  rather  peaceful  Tarascan 
tribe.  One  could  easily  fancy  them  watching  with 
the  same  ebullient  joy  the  dying  struggles  of  help- 
less human  beings  butchered  in  the  same  way.  The 
killing  of  the  trussed  and  fallen  animal  over  the  rivu- 
let recalled  the  cutting  out  of  the  heart  of  human  vic- 
tims on  the  sacrificial  stones  amid  the  plaudits  of  the 
Aztec  multitude  and  the  division  of  the  still  quiv- 
ering flesh  among  them,  and  the  vulgar  young  fellows 
running  around,  knife  in  hand,  eager  for  an  oppor- 
tunity to  use  them,  their  once  white  smocks  smeared 
and  spattered  with  blood,  brought  back  the  picture 
of  the  savage  old  priests  of  the  religion  of  Monte- 
zuma. The  scene  made  more  comprehensible  the 
preconquest  customs  of  the  land,  as  the  antithesis 
of  the  drunken  and  excited  Indian  to  the  almost 
effeminate  fear  of  the  same  being  sober  makes  more 
clear  that  inexplicable  piece  of  romance,  the  Con- 
quest of  Mexico. 

There  is  less  evidence  of  "  religion  "  in  Uruapan 
than  in  Zamora.  Priests  were  rarely  seen  on  the 
streets  and  the  church  bells  were  scarcely  trouble- 
some. Peons  and  a  few  of  even  higher  rank,  how- 
ever, never  passed  the  door  of  a  church  even  at  a  dis- 


ON  THE  TRAIL  IN  MICHOACAN      169 

tance  without  raising  their  hats.  Twice  during  the 
day  I  passed  groups  of  women  of  the  peon  class 
carrying  in  procession  several  framed  chromo  rep- 
resentations of  Saint  Quien  Sabe,  bearing  in  his  arms 
an  imaginary  Christ  child,  all  of  them  wailing  and 
chanting  a  dismal  dirge  as  they  splashed  along 
through  the  dust  in  their  bare  feet. 

A  Tragedy :  As  I  returned  in  the  soft  air  of  sun- 
set from  the  clear  little  river  boiling  over  its  rocks, 
I  passed  in  a  deep-shaded  lane  between  towering  ba- 
nana, coffee,  and  larger  trees  about  three  feet  of 
Mexican  in  sarape  and  overgrown  hat  rooted  to  a 
certain  spot  and  shedding  copious  tears,  while  on  the 
ground  beside  him  were  the  remnants  of  a  glazed  pot 
and  a  broad  patch  of  what  had  once  been  native  fire- 
water mingled  with  the  thirsty  sand.  Some  distance 
on  I  heard  a  cry  as  of  a  hunted  human  being  and 
turned  to  see  the  pot  remnants  and  the  patch  in  the 
self-same  spot,  but  the  hat  and  the  three  feet  of 
Mexican  under  it  were  speeding  away  down  the  lane 
on  wings  of  terror.  But  all  in  vain,  for  behind 
stalked  at  even  greater  speed  a  Mexican  mother, 
gaining  on  him  who  fled,  like  inexorable  fate,  not 
rapidly  but  all  too  surely. 

The  only  train  out  of  Uruapan  leaves  at  an  un- 
earthly hour.  The  sun  was  just  peering  over  the 
horizon,  as  if  reconnoitcring  for  a  safe  entrance, 
when  I  fought  my  way  into  a  chiefly  peon  crowd 
packed  like  a  Jog-jam  around  a  tiny  window  barely 


170       TRAMPING  THROUGH  MEXICO 

waist  high,  behind  which  some  unseen  but  plainly 
Mexican  being  sold  tickets  more  slowly  than  Ameri- 
can justice  in  pursuit  of  the  wealthy.  For  a  couple 
of  miles  the  way  lay  across  a  flat  rich  land  of  corn- 
fields, pink  with  cosmos  flowers.  Then  the  train  be- 
gan to  creak  and  grind  upward  at  dog-trot  pace, 
covering  four  or  five  times  what  would  have  been  the 
distance  in  a  straight  line  and  uncovering  broad  vis- 
tas of  plump-formed  mountains  shaggy  with  trees, 
and  vast,  hollowed-out  valleys  flooded  with  corn. 
Soon  there  were  endless  pine  forests  on  every  hand, 
with  a  thick,  oak-like  undergrowth.  A  labyrinth  of 
loops  one  above  another  brought  us  to  Ajambaran 
and  a  bit  of  level  track,  with  no  mountains  in  the 
landscape  because  we  stood  on  the  summit  of  them. 
Little  Lake  Zirahuen,  surrounded  on  all  sides  by  slop- 
ing hills,  half  pine,  half  corn,  gleamed  with  an  emer- 
ald blue.  The  train  half  circled  it,  at  a  considerable 
distance,  giving  several  broad  vistas,  each  lower  than 
the  preceding,  as  we  climbed  to  an  animated  box-car 
station  higher  still.  From  there  we  began  to  de- 
scend. Over  the  divide  was  a  decided  change  in  the 
landscape ;  again  that  dry,  brown,  thinly  vegetated 
country  of  most  of  the  Mexican  highlands.  Miles 
before  we  reached  the  town  of  the  same  name,  beau- 
tiful Lake  Patzcuaro  burst  on  our  sight  through  a 
break  in  the  hills  to  the  left,  and  continued  to  glad- 
den the  eyes  until  we  drew  up  at  the  station. 

While  the  rest  of  the  passengers  repaired  to  the 


In   the   church   of   ancient   Tzintzuntzan   is   a   "  Descent  from  the 
Cross"  ascribed  to  Titian 


Indians  waiting  outside  the  door  of  the  priest's  house  ni  Tzintzuntzan 


ON  THE  TRAIL  IN  MICHOACAN      173 

mule-tram,  I  set  off  afoot  for  tli^  town,  a  steady 
climb  of  two  miles  by  a  cobbled  road,  up  the  center 
of  which  runs  a  line  of  large  stones  worn  flat  by  gen- 
erations of  bare  feet.  The  man  who  bacdekerized 
Mexico  says  it  is  a  "  very  difficult "  trip  afoot. 
Perhaps  it  would  be  to  him.  From  the  central  line 
of  flat  stones  there  ran  out,  every  yard,  at  right 
angles,  lines  of  stones  a  bit  smaller,  the  space  be- 
tween being  filled  in  with  small  cobbles,  with  grass 
growing  between  them.  The  sun  was  powerful  in 
this  thin  atmosphere  of  more  than  seven  thousand 
feet  elevation*  I  was  barely  settled  in  the  hotel  when 
the  mule-tram  arrived. 

Patzcuaro  is  one  of  the  laziest,  drowsiest,  most 
delightful  pimples  on  the  earth  to  be  found  in  a  long 
search.  It  has  little  in  common  with  Uruapan. 
Here  is  not  a  suggestion  of  the  tropics,  but  just  a 
large  Indian  village  of  mud  an(|  adobe  houses  and 
neck-breaking,  cobbled  streets,  a  town  older  than 
^ime,  sowed  on  and  about  a  hillside  backed  by  pine- 
treed  peaks,  with  several  expanses  of  plazas,  all 
grown  to  grass  above  their  cobbled  floors,  shaded  by 
enormous  ash-like  trees  with  neither  flowers,  shrubs, 
nor  fountains  to  detract  from  their  atmosphere  of 
roominess.  About  them  run  portales,  arcades  with 
pillars  that  seem  at  least  to  antedate  Noah,  and  mas- 
sive stone  benches  green  with  age  and  water-logged 
with  constant  shade,  as  are  also  the  ancient  stone 
sidewalks  under  the  trees  and  the  overhanging  roofs 


174*       TRAMPING  THROUGH  MEXICO 

of  one-story  houses  supported  by  carved  beams. 
Along  these  wanders  a  chiefly  peon  population,  soft- 
footed  and  silent,  with  a  mien  and  manner  that  seems 
to  murmur :  "  If  I  do  not  do  it  to-day  there  is  to- 
morrow, and  next  week,  and  the  week  after."  The 
place  is  charming ;  not  to  its  inhabitants  perhaps,  but 
to  us  from  a  land  where  everything  is  distressingly 
new.  To  the  man  who  has  anything  to  do  or  a  de- 
sire to  do  anything,  Patzcuaro  would  be  infernal ; 
for  him  who  has  nothing  to  do  but  to  do  nothing,  it 
is  delightful. 

Those  who  wish  may  visit  crooning  old  churches 
more  aged  than  the  plays  of  Shakespeare.  Or  one 
may  climb  to  "  Calvary."  The  fanatical  inhabitants, 
abetted  by  the  wily  priests,  have  named  a  road, 
"  very  rocky  and  very  hilly,"  according  to  the  Mexi- 
can Baedeker,  leading  to  a  knoll  somewhat  above  the 
town,  the  "  via  dolorosa,"  and  have  scattered  four- 
teen stations  of  plastered  mud  nitches  along  the  way. 
From  the  aged,  half-circular,  stone  bench  on  the  sum- 
mit is  another  of  the  marvelous  views  that  abound  in 
Mexico.  It  was  siesta-time,  and  not  a  human  being 
was  in  sight  to  break  the  spell.  The  knoll  fell  away 
in  bushy  precipitousness  to  the  plain  below.  As  I 
reached  the  top,  two  trains,  bound  back  the  way  I 
had  come,  left  the  station  two  miles  away,  one  be- 
hind the  other,  and  for  a  long  time  both  were  plainly 
visible  as  they  wound  in  and  out  away  through  the 
foothills,  yet  noiseless  from  here  as  phantoms,  and  no 


ON  THE  TRAIL  IN  MICHOACAN      175 

blot  on  the  landscape,  since  all  colors,  even  that  of  a 
railroad  cutting,  blended  into  the  soft-brown  whole. 

The  scene  was  wholly  different  from  that  about 
Uruapan,  1700  feet  lower.  There  was  very  little 
green,  and  nothing  at  all  of  jungle ;  only  a  sun-faded 
brown  tapestry  backed  by  a  jumble  of  low  mountains 
covered  with  short  bristling  pines.  Here  and  there 
a  timid,  thin-blue  peak  peered  over  a  depression  in 
the  chain.  A  panoramic  glance,  starting  from  the 
west,  showed  range  after  range,  one  behind  the  other, 
to  the  dimmest  blue  distance.  Swinging  round  the 
horizon,  skipping  the  lake,  the  eye  took  in  a  continu- 
ous procession  of  hills,  more  properly  the  upper  por- 
tions of  mountains,  losing  their  trees  toward  the  east 
and  growing  more  and  more  bare  and  reddish-brown, 
until  it  fell  again  on  the  doddering  old  town  napping 
in  its  hollow  do^vn  the  slope.  Below  the  abrupt  face 
of  "  Calvario,"  the  plain,  with  a  few  patches  of  still 
green  corn  alternating  with  reddish,  plowed  fields  but 
for  the  most  part  humped  and  bumped,  light  wooded 
with  scrub  pine,  was  sprinkled  with  mouse-sized  cat- 
tle, distinct  even  to  their  spots  and  markings  in  this 
marvelous,  clear  air  of  the  highlands,  lazily  swinging 
their  taUs  in  summer  contentment. 

But  the  center  of  the  picture,  tJie  picture,  indeed, 
for  which  all  the  rest  served  as  frame,  was  Lake 
Patzcuaro.  It  is  not  beautiful,  but  rather  inviting, 
enticing,  mysterious  for  its  many  sandy  promon- 
tories, its  tongues  of  mountains  cutting  off  a  farther 


176       TRAMPING  THROUGH  MEXICO 

arm  of  the  lake  with  the  old  Tarascan  capital,  and 
above  all  for  its  islands.  One  of  these  is  flat,  run- 
ning out  to  sand  at  either  end,  and  with  something 
of  an  old  town  among  the  trees  covering  its  slightly 
humped  middle.  Then  there  is  Xanicho,  pitched 
high  in  mound-shape,  suggestive  of  Capri,  rocky, 
bare,  reddish-brown,  and  about  its  bottom,  like  a  nar- 
row band  on  a  half-sunken  Mexican  hat,  a  long  thin 
town  of  white  walls  and  tiled  roofs  visible  in  all  de- 
tail, a  church  towering  above  the  rest  to  form  the  bow 
of  the  ribbon.  It  is  strange  how  the  human  plant 
grows  everywhere  and  anywhere,  even  on  a  patch  of 
rock  thrust  forth  out  of  the  sea.  A  bit  to  the  east 
and  farther  away  lies  a  much  smaller  island  of  simi- 
lar shape,  apparently  uninhabited.  Farther  still 
there  stands  forth  from  the  water  a  bare  precipitous 
rock  topped  by  a  castle-like  building  suggesting 
Chillon;  and  beyond  and  about  are  other  islands  of 
many  shapes,  but  all  flat  and  gray-green  in  tint, 
some  so  near  shore  as  to  blend  with  the  promontories 
and  seem  part  of  the  mainland,  thereby  losing  their 
romance. 

Over  all  the  scene  was  a  light-blue,  transparent 
sky,  flecked  only  with  a  few  snow-white  whisps  of 
clouds,  like  bits  of  the  ostrich  plume  that  hung  over 
Uruapan  in  the  far  west,  and  from  which  a  soft  wind 
tore  off  now  and  then  tiny  pieces  that  floated  slowly 
eastward.  The  same  breeze  tempered  the  sunny  still- 
ness of  the  "  Calvario,"  broken  occasionally  by  the 


ON  THE  TRAIL  IN  MICHOACAN      177 

song  of  a  happy  shepherd  boy  in  the  shrub-clad  hills 
and  the  mellow-voiced,  decrepit,  old  church  bells  of 
Patzcuaro  below. 

Some  miles  away  from  the  town,  at  the  far  end  of 
Lake  Patzcuaro,  behind  the  hills,  lies  the  ancient  In- 
dian village  of  Tzintzuntzan,  at  the  time  of  the  Con- 
quest the  residence  of  the  chief  of  the  Tarascans  and 
ruler  of  the  kingdom  of  Michoacan,  which  was  not 
subdued  until  ten  years  after  the  fall  of  Mexico.  I 
planned  to  visit  it  next  day.  As  I  strolled  around 
the  unkempt  plaza  grande  in  a  darkness  only  aug- 
mented by  a  few  w  eak  electric  bulbs  of  slight  candle- 
power,  with  scores  of  peons,  male  and  female, 
wrapped  like  half-animated  mummies  in  their  blan- 
kets, even  to  their  noses,  I  fell  in  with  a  German. 
He  was  a  garrulous,  self-complacent,  ungraceful  man 
of  fifty,  a  druggist  and  "  doctor  "  in  a  small  town  far 
down  in  Oaxaca  State  until  revolutions  began,  when 
he  had  escaped  in  the  garb  of  a  peon,  leaving  most  of 
his  possessions  behind.  Now  he  wandered  from  town 
to  town,  hanging  up  his  shingle  a  few  days  in  each  as 
an  oculist.  His  hotel  room  was  a  museum.  None 
can  rival  the  wandering  Teuton  in  the  systematic  col- 
lecting, at  its  lowest  possible  cost,  of  everything  that 
could  by  any  stretch  of  the  imagination  ever  be  of 
service  to  a  traveler.  This  one  possessed  only  a 
rucksack  and  a  blanket-wrapped  bundle,  but  in  them 
he  carried  more  than  the  average  American  would  be 
caught  in  possession  of  in  his  own  home.     There  were 


178       TRAMPING  THROUGH  MEXICO 

worn  and  greasy  notebooks  full  of  detailed  informa- 
tion of  the  road,  the  cheapest  hotels  of  every  known 
town  of  Mexico,  with  the  lowest  possible  price  and 
the  idiosyncrasies  of  their  proprietors  that  might  be 
played  upon  to  obtain  it,  the  exact  cafe  where  the 
beer  glasses  grew  tallest,  the  expenditures  that  might 
be  avoided  by  a  foresighted  manipulation ;  there  were 
shoes  and  slippers,  sleeping  garments  for  each  degree 
of  temperature,  a  cooking  outfit,  a  bicycle-lamp  with 
a  chimney  to  read  by,  guns,  gun-oil,  gun-cleaners, 
flannel  cloth  to  take  the  place  of  socks  for  tramping, 
vaseline  to  rub  on  the  same  —  it  would  be  madness  to 
attempt  a  complete  inventor}^,  but  he  would  be  in- 
ventive indeed  who  could  name  anything  that  Teu- 
tonic pack  did  not  contain  in  some  abbreviated  form, 
purchased  somewhere  second  hand  at  a  fourth  its 
original  cost.  The  German  had  learned  that  the 
parish  priest  of  Tzintzuntzan  wore  glasses,  and  we 
parted  agreed  to  make  the  trip  together. 

Patzcuaro  is  summery  enough  by  day,  but  only  the 
hardy  would  dress  leisurely  at  dawn.  A  fog  as  thick 
as  cheese,  more  properly  a  descended  cloud,  enveloped 
the  place,  a  daily  occurrence  which  the  local  author- 
ities would  have  you  think  make  it  unusually  health- 
ful. An  ancient  cobbled  road  leads  up  and  over  the 
first  rise,  then  degenerates  to  the  usual  Mexican 
camino,  a  trail  twisting  in  and  out  along  a  chaos  of 
rocks  and  broken  ground.  The  fog  hung  long  with 
us  and  made  impossible  pictures  of  the  procession  of 


ON  THE  TRAIL  IN  MICHOACAN      179 

Tarascan  Indians  coming  in  from  Tzintzuntzan  with 
every  species  of  red  pottery,  from  cups  to  immense 
water-jars,  in  great  nets  on  the  backs  of  horses,  asses, 
men,  and  women.  Beyond  the  railroad  the  trail 
picked  its  way,  with  several  climbs  over  rocky  spur- 
ends,  along  the  marshy  edge  of  the  lake,  which  was 
so  completely  surrounded  by  mud  and  reeds  that  I 
had  to  leave  unfulfilled  my  promised  swim  in  it.  The 
trip  was  made  endless  by  the  incessant  chatter  of  the 
"  doctor,"  who  rattled  on  in  English  without  a  break ; 
and  when  I  switched  him  to  German  his  tongue  sped 
still  faster,  though  fortunately  more  correctly.  No 
wonder  those  become  fluent  linguist-s  who  can  outdis- 
tance and  outendure  a  man  in  his  own  tongue  long 
before  they  have  begun  to  learn  it. 

Along  the  way  we  picked  up  any  amount  of  shin- 
ing black  obsidian,  some  in  the  form  of  arrow-heads 
and  crude  knives  that  bore  out  the  statement  that  the 
Indians  once  even  shaved  with  them.  It  was  nearly 
eleven  when  we  sighted,  down  among  the  trees  on  the 
lake  shore,  the  squat  church  tower  of  the  once  capi- 
tal of  Michoacan.  A  native  we  spoke  with  referred 
to  it  as  a  "  ciudad,"  but  in  everything  but  name  it 
was  a  dead,  mud-and-straw  Indian  village,  all  but 
its  main  street  a  collection  of  mud,  rags,  pigs,  and 
sunshine,  and  no  evidence  of  what  Prescott  describes 
as  splendid  ruins.  Earthquakes  are  not  unknown, 
and  the  bells  of  the  church,  old  as  the  conquest  of 
Michoacan,  hang  in  the  trees  before  it.     Inside,  an 


180       TRAMPING  THROUGH  MEXICO 

old  woman  left  her  sweeping  to  pull  aside  the  cur- 
tains of  the  reputed  Titian,  a  "  Descent  from  the 
Cross,"  while  I  photographed  it  from  the  pulpit,  for 
which  privilege  the  young  peon  sexton  appeared  in 
time  to  accept  a  silver  coin. 

The  German,  with  whom  business  always  took  pre- 
cedence over  pleasure,  had  gone  to  find  the  house  of 
the  priest.  When  I  reached  the  door  of  it  on  the 
blank  main  street,  he  was  sitting  on  a  wooden  bench 
in  the  hallway  with  a  dozen  old  women  and  peons. 
We  were  admitted  immediately  after,  as  befitted  our 
high  social  standing.  A  plump  little  padre  nearing 
sixty,  of  the  general  appearance  of  a  well-stufFed 
grain  sack  draped  in  black  robes,  but  of  rather  im- 
pressive features  —  and  wearing  glasses  —  greeted 
us  with  formality.  The  "  doctor  "  drew  a  black  case 
from  his  pocket,  went  through  some  hocuspocus  with 
a  small  mirror,  and  within  two  minutes,  though  his 
Spanish  was  little  less  excruciating  than  his  English, 
had  proved  to  the  startled  curate  that  the  glasses 
he  was  wearing  would  have  turned  him  stone-blind 
within  a  month  but  for  the  rare  fortune  of  this  great 
Berlin  specialist's  desire  to  visit  the  famous  historical 
capital  of  the  Tarascans.  The  priest  smoked  cigar- 
ette after  cigarette  while  my  companion  fitted  an- 
other pair  of  crystals  and  tucked  the  dangerous  ones 
away  in  his  own  case  —  for  the  next  victim.  He  did 
not  even  venture  to  haggle,  but  paid  the  two  dollars 
demanded  with  the  alacrity  of  a  man  who  recognizes 


A  corner  of  Morelir.,  capital  of  Alichoacdn,  and  its  ancient  aqueduct 


The  spot  and  hour  in  which  Maximilian  was  shot,  with  the  chapel 
since  erected  by  Austria 


ON  THE  TRAIL  IN  MICHOACAN      183 

his  good  fortune,  and  to  whom  a  matter  of  a  few 
pesos  more  or  less  is  of  slight  importance.  For  were 
there  not  a  score  of  Indians  waiting  outside  eager  to 
pay  as  well  for  masses,  confessions,  and  all  the  rest 
of  his  own  hocuspocus?  There  followed  a  social 
chat,  well  liquefied,  after  which  we  took  our  cere- 
monious leave.  Once  outside,  I  learned  the  distress- 
ing fact  that  the  shape  of  the  padre's  bows  had  re- 
quired crystals  costing  twelve  cents,  instead  of  the 
customary  nine-cent  ones. 

The  German  set  off  in  the  blazing  noonday  at  his 
swiftest  pace.  He  was  obliged  to  be  back  at  the  ho- 
tel by  three,  for  the  dinner  must  be  paid  for  whether 
eaten  or  not.  I  fell  behind,  glad  of  the  opportunity. 
Many  groups  of  peons  were  returning  now,  without 
their  loads,  but  maudlin  and  nasty  tempered  with  the 
mescal  for  which  they  had  exchanged  them.  My  au- 
tomatic was  within  easy  reach.  The  oculist  had 
criticized  it  as  far  too  small  for  Mexican  travel.  He 
carried  himself  a  revolver  half  the  size  of  a  rifle,  and 
filed  the  ends  of  the  bullets  crosswise  that  they  might 
split  and  spread  on  entering  a  body.  In  the  out- 
skirts of  Patzcuaro  there  came  hurrying  toward  me 
a  flushed  and  drunken  peon  youth  with  an  immense 
rock  in  his  hand.  I  reached  for  my  weapon,  but  he 
greeted  me  with  a  respectful  "  Adios ! "  and  hurried 
on.  Soon  he  was  overtaken  by  two  more  youths  and 
dragged  back  to  where  an  older  peon  lay  in  the  mid- 
dle of  the  road,  his  head  mashed  with  a  rock  until 


184       TRAMPING  THROUGH  MEXICO 

trickles  of  brain  protruded.  The  event  seemed  to 
cause  little  excitement.  A  few  stood  at  their  doors 
gazing  with  a  mild  sort  of  interest  at  the  corpse, 
which  still  lay  in  the  road  when  I  turned  a  corner 
above. 

Mules  drag  the  tram-car  of  Patzcuaro  laboriously 
up  the  three  kilometers  from  the  station  to  the  main 
plaza,  but  gravitation  serves  for  the  down  journey. 
When  enough  passengers  had  boarded  it  to  set  it  in 
motion,  we  slid  with  a  falsetto  rumble  down  the  cob- 
bled road,  a  ragged  boy  leaning  on  the  brake.  Be- 
yond the  main  railroad  track  a  spur  ran  out  on  a 
landing-stage  patched  together  out  of  old  boards  and 
rubbish.  Peons  were  loading  into  an  iron  scow  bags 
of  cement  from  an  American  box-car  far  from  home. 
Indians  paddled  about  the  lake  in  canoes  of  a  hol- 
lowed log  with  a  high  pointed  nose,  but  chopped 
sharp  off  at  the  poop.  Their  paddles  were  perfectly 
round  pieces  of  wood,  like  churn-covers,  on  the  end  of 
long  slim  handles. 

We  were  soon  off  for  Morelia,  capital  of  the  State, 
across  plains  of  cattle,  with  an  occasional  cut  through 
the  hills  and  a  few  brown  ponds.  At  one  station  we 
passed  two  carloads  of  soldiers,  westbound.  They 
were  nearly  all  mere  boys,  as  usual,  and  like  the  po- 
licemen and  rurales  of  the  country  struck  one  as  un- 
wisely entrusted  with  dangerous  weapons,  Morelia 
is  seen  afar  off  in  the  lap  of  a  broad  rolling  plain, 
her  beautiful  cathedral  towers  high  above  all  the  rest. 


ON  THE  TRAIL  IN  MICHOACAN      185 

It  was  brilliant  noonday  when  I  descended  and  walked 
the  mile  into  town. 

The  birthplace  of  Jose  Morelos  and  of  Yturbide, 
first  emperor  of  Mexico,  sits  6200  feet  above  the  sea 
and  claims  37,000  inhabitants.  It  is  warm  and 
brown  with  dust.  Architecturally  it  is  Mexican, 
with  flat  roofs  and  none  of  the  overhanging  eaves  of 
Patzcuaro  and  Uruapan.  From  the  "  centro  " — 
the  nerve-center  of  the  "  torpid  State,"  with  two 
well-kept  plazas,  the  plateresque  cathedral  of  a  pink- 
ish stone  worn  faint  and  spotted  with  time,  and  the 
"  seat  of  the  powers  of  the  State,"  all  on  the  summit 
of  a  knoll  —  the  entire  town  slopes  gently  down  and 
quickly  fades  away  into  dirty,  half-cobbled  suburbs, 
brown  and  treeless,  overrun  with  ragged,  dust-tinted 
inhabitants,  every  street  seeming  to  bring  up  against 
the  low  surrounding  range.  Its  natural  advantages 
are  fully  equal  to  those  of  Guadalajara,  but  here 
pulque  grows  and  man  is  more  torpid.  All  the  place 
has  a  hopeless,  or  at  least  ambitionless,  air,  though  in 
this  splendid  climate  poverty  has  less  tinge  of  misery 
and  the  appearance  of  a  greater  contentment  with  its 
lot.  There  is  a  local  "  poet's  walk  "  that  is  not  par- 
ticularly poetic,  a  wild  park  beyond  that  is  more  so, 
and  a  great  aqueduct  over  which  sprawl  enormous 
masses  of  the  beautiful  purple  bourgainvillea.  This 
ancient  waterway  resembles,  but  is  far  less  striking 
than  that  of  Segovia,  for  it  runs  across  compar- 
atively level  ground  and  has  only  single  arches  of 


186       TRAMPING  THROUGH  MEXICO 

moderate  height  and  too  polished  construction,  in- 
stead of  the  massive  cyclopean  work  of  immense 
blocks  of  stone  without  mortar  of  its  Spanish  coun- 
terpart. Views  and  sunsets  too  often  tempt  the 
traveler  in  Mexico,  or  I  might  mention  that  from  a 
little  way  out  of  town  at  the  top  of  the  road  to 
Mexico  City,  where  the  cathedral  towers  all  but 
reach  the  crest  of  the  backing  range,  over  which 
hung  the  ocher  and  light-pink  and  saffron-yellow 
clouds  of  the  dying  day. 

The  "  Hotel  Solcdad "  asserted  its  selectness  by 
the  announcement :  "  En  este  hotel  no  se  admiten 
compaiiias  de  comicos  ni  toreros,"  but  the  solitude 
of  its  wooden-floored  beds  at  least  was  distinctly 
broken  and  often.  The  pompous,  squeeze-centavo, 
old  landlady  sat  incessantly  in  her  place  near  the 
door  between  dining-room  and  kitchen,  with  a  leather 
handbag  from  which  she  doled  out,  almost  with  tears, 
coppers  for  change  and  the  kej^s  to  the  larder,  to  the 
cringing  servants  and  conferred  long  with  them  in 
whispers  on  how  much  she  dared  charge  each  guest, 
according  to  his  appearance.  But  at  least  Mexico 
feeds  well  the  traveler  who  is  too  hungry  to  be  par- 
ticular. He  who  will  choose  his  dishes  leads  a  sorry 
life,  for  the  hotels  are  adamant  in  their  fare  and 
restaurants  are  almost  unknown,  except  the  dozens 
of  little  outdoor  ones  about  the  market-places  where 
a   white   man   would   attract   undue   attention  —  if 


ON  THE  TRAIL  IN  MICHOACAN      187 

nothing  less  curable  —  among  the  "  pela'os  "  that 
make  up  80  per  cent,  of  the  population. 

The  passengers  to  Acambaro  included  two  ladies 
of  the  fly-by-night  species,  who  whiled  away  a  some- 
what monotonous  journey  by  discussing  the  details 
of  their  profession  with  the  admiring  train-boy  and 
drumming  up  trade  in  a  coquettish  pantomime.  The 
junction  town  was  in  fiesta,  and  the  second-class  car 
of  the  evening  train  to  Celaya  was  literally  stacked 
high  with  peons  and  their  multifarious  bundles,  and 
from  it  issued  a  stench  like  unto  that  of  a  congress 
of  polecats.  I  rode  seated  on  a  brake,  showers  of 
cinders  and  the  cold  night  air  swirling  about  me  un- 
til the  festive  natives  thinned  down  enough  to  give 
me  admittance.  By  that  time  we  were  drawing  into 
Celaya,  also  in  the  throes  of  some  bombastic  celebra- 
tion. 

Like  many  another  Mexican  city  the  traveler 
chances  into  when  the  central  plaza  is  bubbling  with 
night  life,  light,  and  music,  Celaya  turned  out  rather 
a  disappointment  in  the  sunny  commonplace  of  day. 
Its  central  square  is  a  little  garden,  but  almost  all  the 
rest  of  the  town  is  a  monotonous  waste  of  square, 
bare,  one-story  houses  with  ugly  plaster  facades  and 
no  roofs  —  at  least  to  be  seen  —  each  differing  a  bit 
from  its  neighbor  in  height,  like  a  badly  drawn  up 
company  of  soldiers.  The  blazing  sun  and  thick 
dust  characteristic  of  all  the  high  central  plateau  are 


188       TRAMPING  THROUGH  MEXICO 

here  in  full  force.  Like  most  Spanish  things  —  con- 
quests, history,  buildings  —  it  looked  more  striking 
at  a  distance  than  when  examined  in  detail. 

Celaya  is  far-famed  for  its  candy.  All  over  the 
republic  sounds  the  cry  of  "  Cajetas  de  Celaya!" 
Mexico  shows  a  great  liking  for  sweets ;  no  block  is 
complete  without  its  little  stands  or  peregrinating 
hawkers  of  all  manner  of  temptations  to  the  sweet- 
toothed,  ranging  from  squares  of  "  fudge "  in  all 
colors  of  the  rainbow  to  barber-pole  sticks  a  half- 
yard  long.  The  station  was  surrounded  with  soap- 
less  old  women,  boys,  and  even  men  offering  for  sale 
all  sizes  of  the  little  wooden  boxes  of  the  chief  local 
product,  in  appearance  like  axle-grease,  but  delicious 
far  beyond  its  looks,  and  with  vendors  of  everything 
imaginable,  to  say  nothing  of  a  ragged,  dirty  multi- 
tude of  all  ages  with  no  business  there  —  nor  any- 
where else. 

When  I  had  spread  out  over  two  wooden  seats  of 
the  big,  bustling  El  Paso  Limited  I  was  quickly  re- 
minded of  the  grim,  business-bent,  American  engi- 
neer in  gray  hair,  the  unlit  half  of  a  cigar  clamped 
tightly  between  his  teeth,  I  had  caught  a  half-con- 
scious glance  of  in  the  cab  window.  One  could  liter- 
ally feel  his  firm  American  hand  at  the  throttle  as 
the  heavy  train  gathered  steady  headway  and  raced 
away  to  the  eastward.  Across  the  car  sat  two  hand- 
some, solidlj-knit  young  bull-fighters,  their  little 
rat-tail  coletas  peering  from  behind  their  square-cut 


ON  THE  TRAIL  IN  MICHOACAN      189 

hats.  We  sped  steadily  across  the  sun-flooded,  dry, 
brown  plateau,  slightly  rolling,  its  fields  alternating 
between  the  dead  tint  of  dry  corn  and  newly  plowed 
patches.  Here  for  the  first  time  were  pulque  pro- 
ducing fields  of  maguey,  planted  in  long,  straight, 
emerald-green  rows. 

As  Irapuato  for  its  strawberries,  and  Celaya  for 
its  sweets,  so  Queretaro  is  famed  for  its  huge,  cheap 
hats,  of  a  sort  of  reed,  large  enough  to  serve  as  um- 
brellas, and  for  its  opals.  From  the  time  he  steps 
off  the  train  here  until  he  boards  it  again,  the 
traveler,  especially  the  "  gringo,"  is  incessantly  pes- 
tered by  men  and  boys  offering  for  sale  these  worth- 
less bright  pebbles  —  genuine  and  otherwise.  Here 
again  are  the  same  endless  rows  of  one-story,  stucco 
houses,  intersecting  cobbled  and  dust-paved  streets, 
running  to  the  four  corners  of  the  compass  from  a 
central  plaza  planted  with  tall,  slim  trees,  the  inter- 
woven branches  of  which  almost  completely  shade  it. 
The  cathedral  houses,  among  other  disturbing,  dis- 
gusting, and  positively  indecent  representations  of 
the  Crucifixion  and  various  martyrdoms  done  in  the 
Aztec  style  of  bloody  realism,  a  life-size  Crista  with 
masses  of  long  real  hair  and  a  pair  of  knee-length 
knit  drawers  for  decency's  sake.  One  might  fancy 
the  place  weighed  down  by  a  Puritan  censorship. 
The  local  museum  contains  among  other  rubbish  of 
the  past  the  ke^'hole  through  which  Josefa  whispered 
in  1810  the  words  that  started  the  revolution  against 


190       TRAMPING  THROUGH  MEXICO 

Spanish  power !  Here,  too,  is  what  purports  to  be 
an  authentic  photograph  of  the  execution  of  Maxi- 
milian, theatrical  to  a  Spanish  degree,  the  three  vic- 
tims standing  in  their  places,  the  once  "  Emperor  of 
the  Mexicans  "  holding  a  large  crucifix,  and  several 
of  the  boy  soldiers  who  executed  them  crowded 
eagerly  into  the  corners  of  the  picture.  More  im- 
pressive to  the  incredulous  is  the  plain,  tapering, 
wooden  coffin  in  which  the  chief  body  was  placed,  the 
bottom  half  covered  with  faded  blood  and  on  one  of 
the  sides  the  plain,  dull-red  imprint  of  a  hand,  as  if 
the  corpse  had  made  some  post-mortem  effort  to  rise 
from  the  dead.  The  portrait  of  the  transplanted 
scion  of  Austria  shows  a  haughty,  I-am-of-superior- 
clay  man,  of  a  distinctly  mediocre  grade  of  intellect, 
with  a  forest  of  beard  that  strives  in  vain  to  conceal 
an  almost  complete  absence  of  chin. 

History  records  that  the  deposed  ruler  reached  by 
carriage  his  last  earthly  scene  in  the  early  morning 
of  June  19,  1867.  I  arrived  as  early,  though  afoot. 
It  is  a  twenty-minute  walk  from  the  center  of  town 
across  the  flat,  fertile  vega,  green  with  gardens,  to 
the  Cerro  de  las  Campanas,  a  bare,  stern,  stony  hill, 
somewhat  grown  with  ca,ctus  bushes,  maguey,  and 
tough  shrubs,  rising  perhaps  seventy  feet  above  the 
level  of  the  town.  It  runs  up  gently  and  evenly  from 
the  south,  but  falls  away  abruptly  in  a  cragged,  rock 
precipice  on  the  side  facing  Queretaro,  providing  the 
only  place  in  the  vicinity  where  poorly  aimed  bullets 


The  market  of  Tlaxcala,  the  ancient  inhabitants  of  which  aided 
Cortez  in  the  Conquest  of  Mexico 


^- 


A  runii  of  the  state  of  Tlaxcala  on  guarvl  before  a  barracks 


ON  THE  TRAIL  IN  MICHOACAN      193 

cannot  whistle  away  across  the  plain.  Before  them, 
as  they  faced  the  youthful,  brown  file  of  soldiers  in 
their  many-patched  and  faded  garb,  the  three  had  a 
comprehensive  view  of  the  town,  chiefly  trees  and 
churches  sufficient  to  house  the  entire  populace  sev- 
eral times  over.  Nine  immense  structures,  each  with 
a  great  dome  and  a  tower  or  two  —  steeples  are  un- 
known in  Mexico  —  stand  out  against  the  bare, 
brown,  flat-topped  range  beyond  that  barely  rises 
above  the  highest  tower.  The  last  scene  he  looked 
on  must  have  struck  the  refuted  emperor  as  typical 
of  a  country  he  was  sorry  then  ever  to  have  seen,  in 
spite  of  his  regal  control  of  facial  expression, —  a 
hard,  stony  plateau,  the  fertility  and  riches  of  which 
succumb  chiefly  to  an  all-devouring  priesthood. 
Cold  lead  plays  too  large  a  part  in  the  histor}'  of 
Mexico,  but  certainly  its  most  unjust  verdict  was 
not  the  extinction  of  the  "  divine  right "  in  the  per- 
son of  this  self-styled  descendant  of  the  Caesars  at 
the  hands  of  an  Indian  of  Oaxaca.  To-day  a  brown 
stone  chapel,  erected  by  Austria,  stands  where  Maxi- 
milian fell,  but  the  spot  remains  otherwise  unchanged, 
and  no  doubt  the  fathers  of  these  same  peons  who 
toiled  now  In  the  gardens  of  the  vega  under  the  morn- 
ing sun  lined  the  way  through  which  the  carriage 
bore  to  its  American  extinction  a  sj^stem  foreign  to 
the  Western  Hemisphere. 


CHAPTER  VI 

TENOCHTITLAN    OF    TO-DAY 

THE  El  Paso  Limited  picked  me  up  again 
twentj-four  hours  later.  Bej^ond  Queretaro's 
ungainly  aqueduct  spread  fields  of  tobacco,  blooming 
with  a  flower  not  unlike  the  lily;  then  vast,  almost 
endless  stretches  of  dead,  dry  corn  up  low  heights  on 
either  hand,  and  occasional  fields  of  maguey  in  sol- 
dierly files.  At  San  Juan  del  Rio,  famous  for  its 
lariats,  a  dozen  men  and  a  woman  stood  in  a  row, 
some  forty  feet  from  the  train,  holding  coils  of 
woven-leather  ropes  of  all  sizes,  but  in  glum  and 
hopeless  silence,  while  a  policeman  paced  back  and 
forth  to  prevent  them  from  either  canvassing  the 
train-windows  or  crying  their  wares.  Evidently 
some  antinuisance  crusade  had  invaded  San  Juan. 

Mexico  is  a  country  of  such  vast  vistas  that  a  man 
might  easily  be  taken  and  executed  by  bandits  within 
plain  sight  of  his  friends  without  their  being  able  to 
lend  him  assistance.  Nowhere  can  one  look  farther 
and  see  nothing.  Yet  entire  companies  of  marauders 
might  lie  in  wait  in  the  many  wild  rockj^  barrancos 

of  this  apparently  level  brown  plain.     Up  and  up  we 

194 


TENOCHTITLAN  OF  TO-DAY  195 

climbed  through  a  bare,  stone-strewn  land,  touched 
here  and  there  with  the  green  of  cactus,  sometimes 
with  long  vistas  of  maize,  which  here  hung  dead  in  its 
half-grown  youth  because  of  the  failure  of  the  sum- 
mer rains.  Fields  of  maguey  continued.  The  air 
grew  preceptibly  cooler  as  we  wound  back  and  forth, 
always  at  good  speed  behind  the  American  engineer, 
mounting  to  the  upper  plateau  surrounding  the  capi- 
tal, not  through  mountains  but  by  a  vast,  steadily 
rising  world.  Sometimes  long,  unmortared  stone 
fences  divided  the  landscape,  more  often  mile  after 
unobstructed  mile  of  slightly  undulating  brown  plain, 
tinted  here  and  there  by  maguey,  rolled  by  us  into 
the  north. 

A  special  train  of  soldiers,  with  a  carload  of  arms 
and  munitions,  passed  on  the  way  to  head  off  the 
latest  revolted  "  general."  The  newspapers  of  the 
capital  appeared,  some  rabidly  "  anti-American," 
stopping  at  nothing  to  stir  up  the  excitable  native 
against  alleged  subtle  plans  of  the  nation  to  the  north 
to  rob  them  of  their  territory  and  national  existence, 
the  more  reputable  ones  with  sane  editorials  implor- 
ing all  Mexicans  not  to  make  intervention  "  in  the 
name  of  humanity  and  civilization  "  necessary.  The 
former  sold  far  more  readily.  The  train  wound 
hither  and  yon,  as  if  looking  for  an  entrance  to  the 
valley  of  Mexico.  Unfortunately  no  train  on  cither 
line  reaches  ancient  Anahuac  by  da3'light,  and  my 
plan  to  enter  it  afoot,  perhaps  by  the  same  route  as 


196       TRAMPING  THROUGH  MEXICO 

Cortez,  had  been  frustrated.  A  red  sun  was  just 
sinking  behind  haggard  peaks  when  we  reached  the 
highest  point  of  the  line  —  8237  feet  above  the  sea  — 
with  clumps  and  small  forests  of  stocky  oaks  and  half 
Mexico  stretching  out  behind  us,  rolling  brown  to 
distant  bare  ranges  backed  by  others  growing  blue 
and  purple  to  farthest  distance.  The  scene  had  a 
late  October  aspect,  and  a  chilling,  ozone-rich  wind 
blew.  By  dusk  the  coat  I  had  all  but  thrown  away 
in  the  sweltering  North  was  more  than  needed.  We 
paused  at  San  Antonio,  a  jumble  of  human  kennels 
thrown  together  of  old  cans,  scraps  of  lumber,  mud, 
stones,  and  cactus  leaves,  with  huge  stacks  of  the 
charcoal,  with  the  soot  of  which  all  the  inhabitants 
were  covered,  even  to  the  postmaster  who  came  in  per- 
son for  the  mail  sack.  That  week's  issue  of  a  frivol- 
ous sheet  of  the  capital  depicted  an  antonino  char- 
coal-burner standing  before  his  no  less  unwashed  wife, 
holding  a  new-born  babe  and  crying  in  the  slovenly 
dialect  of  the  "  pela'o " :  "  Why,  it  is  white ! 
Woman,  thou  hast  deceived  me ! " 

At  dark  came  Tula,  ancient  capital  of  the  Toltecs, 
after  which  night  hid  all  the  scene  there  might  have 
been,  but  for  glimpses  by  the  light  of  the  train  of 
the  great  tajo  cut  through  the  hills  to  drain  the 
ancient  valley  of  Anahuac.  On  we  sped  through  the 
night,  which  if  anything  became  a  trifle  warmer. 
Gradually  the  car  crowded  to  what  would  have  been 
suffocation  had  we  not  soon  pulled  in  at  Buena  Vista 


TENOCHTITLAN  OF  TO-DAY  197 

station,  to  fight  our  way  through  a  howling  pande- 
monium of  touts,  many  shouting  English,  among 
whom  were  the  first  Negroes  I  had  seen  in  Mexico. 

Mexico  City  was  a  great  disappointment.  The 
hotel  only  a  block  from  the  cathedral  and  the  site  of 
the  great  teocalli  of  the  Aztecs,  to  which  the  German 
in  Patzcuaro  had  directed  me,  differed  not  even  in 
its  smells  from  a  Clark-street  lodging-house  in  Chi- 
cago. The  entire  city  with  its  cheap  restaurants  and 
sour  smelling  pulquerias  uncountable,  looked  and 
sounded  like  a  lower  eastside  New  York  turned  Span- 
ish in  tongue.  Even  morning  light  discovered  noth- 
ing like  the  charm  of  the  rest  of  Mexico,  and  though 
I  took  up  new  lodgings  en  famille  in  aristocratic 
Chapultepec  Avenue,  with  a  panorama  of  snow- 
topped  Popocatepetl  and  Ixtaccihuatl,  her  sleep- 
ing sister,  and  all  the  range  seeming  a  bare  gunshot 
away,  the  imagination  was  more  inclined  to  hark  back 
to  the  Bowery  than  to  the  great  Tenochtitlan  of  the 
days  of  Cortez. 

In  a  word,  the  capital  is  much  like  many  another 
modern  city,  somewhat  bleak,  cosmopolitan  of  popu- 
lation, with  strong  national  lines  of  demarkation, 
and  a  caste  system  almost  as  fixed  as  that  of  India, 
but  with  none  of  the  romance  the  reader  of  Prescott, 
Mme.  Calderon,  and  the  rest  expects.  Since  anarchy 
fell  upon  the  land,  even  the  Sunday  procession  of  car- 
riages of  beauty  in  silks  and  jewels,  and  of  rancheros 
prancing    by    in    thousand-dollar    hats,    on    silver- 


198      TRAMPING  THROUGH  MEXICO 

mounted  and  bejeweled  saddles,  has  disappeared  from 
the  life  of  the  capital.  To-day  the  Mexican  is  not 
anxious  to  parade  his  wealth,  nor  even  to  venture  it 
in  business.  He  is  much  more  minded  to  bury  it  in 
the  earth,  to  hide  it  in  his  socks,  to  lay  it  up  in  the 
great  republic  to  the  north,  where  neither  presidents 
corrupt  nor  Zapatistas  break  in  and  steal. 

By  day  moderate  clothing  was  comfortable,  but 
the  night  air  is  sharp  and  penetrating,  and  he  who  is 
not  dressed  for  winter  will  be  inclined  to  keep  mov- 
ing. Policemen  and  street-car  employees  tie  a  cloth 
across  their  mouths  from  sunset  until  the  morning 
warms.  Ragged  peons  swarm,  feeding,  when  at  all, 
chiefly  from  ambulating  kitchens  of  as  tattered  haw- 
kers. The  well-to-do  Mexican,  the  "  upper  class," 
in  general  is  a  more  churlish,  impolite,  irresponsible, 
completely  inefficient  fellow  than  even  the  country- 
man and  the  peon,  in  whom,  if  anywhere  within  its 
borders,  lies  the  future  hope  of  Mexico.  To  him 
outward  appearance  is  everything,  and  the  capital  is 
especially  overrun  with  the  resultant  hollow  baubles 
of  humanity. 

There  are  a  few  short  excursions  of  interest  about 
the  capital.  Bandits  have  made  several  of  them, 
such  as  the  ascent  of  Popocatepetl,  unpopular,  but  a 
few  were  still  within  the  bounds  of  moderate  safety. 
Three  miles  away  by  highway  or  street-car  looms 
up  the  church  of  Guadalupe,  the  sacred  city  of  Mex- 


TENOCHTITLAN  OF  TO-DAY         199 

ico.  It  is  a  pleasing  little  town,  recalling  Puree 
of  the  Juggernaut-car  by  its  scores  of  little  stands 
for  the  feeding  of  pilgrims  —  at  pilgrimage  prices. 
Here  are  evidences  of  an  idolatry  equal  to  that  of 
the  Hindu.  Peons  knelt  on  the  floor  of  the  church, 
teaching  their  babies  to  cross  themselves  in  the  long 
intricate  manner  customary  in  Mexico.  A  side  room 
was  crowded  with  cheap  cardboard  paintings  of  de- 
votees in  the  act  of  being  "  saved  "  by  the  Virgin  of 
Guadalupe  —  here  a  man  lying  on  his  back  in  front 
of  a  train  which  the  Virgin  in  the  sky  above  has  just 
brought  to  a  standstill ;  there  a  child  being  spared 
by  her  lifting  the  wheel  of  a  heavy  truck  about 
to  crush  it.  It  would  be  hard  to  imagine  anything 
more  crude  either  in  conception  or  execution  than 
these  signs  of  gratitude.  To  judge  by  them  the  Vir- 
gin would  make  a  dramatist  of  the  first  rank ;  there 
was  not  a  picture  in  which  the  miraculous  assistance 
came  a  moment  too  soon,  never  a  hero  of  our  ancient, 
pre-Edison  melodramas  appeared  more  exactly  "  in 
the  nick  of  time."  The  famous  portrait  of  the  mi- 
raculous being  herself,  over  the  high  altar,  is  dimly 
seen  through  thick  glass.  Inside  the  chapel  under 
the  blue  and  white  dome  pilgrims  were  dipping  up  the 
"  blessed  "  water  from  the  bubbling  well  and  filling 
bottles  of  all  possible  shapes,  not  a  few  of  which  had 
originally  held  American  and  Scotch  whisky,  that  are 
sold  in  dozens  of  little  stands  outside  the  temple. 


200       TRAMPING  THROUGH  MEXICO 

These  they  carr}^  home,  often  hundreds  of  miles,  to 
"  cure  "  the  ailments  of  themselves  or  families,  or  to 
sell  to  others  at  monopoly  prices. 

Good  electric  cars  speed  across  amazingly  fertile 
bottom  lands  crisscrossed  by  macadam  highways  to 
Xochimilco.  Nearing  it,  the  rugged  foothills  of  the 
great  mountain  wall  shutting  in  the  valley  begin  to 
rise.  We  skirted  Pedregal,  a  wilderness  of  lava  hills 
serving  as  quarry,  and  drew  up  in  the  old  Indian 
town,  of  a  charm  all  its  own,  with  its  hoar  and  rug- 
ged old  church  and  its  houses  built  of  upright  corn- 
stalks or  reeds,  with  roofs  of  grass  from  the  lake. 
Indians  paddled  in  clumsy,  leaky  boats  about  through 
the  canals  among  rich,  flower-burdened  islands,  once 
floating. 

Another  car  runs  out  to  Popotla  along  the  old 
Aztec  causeway  by  which  the  Spaniards  retreated  on 
that  dismal  night  of  July  S,  1520.  Now  the  water 
is  gone  and  only  a  broad  macadamed  street  remains. 
The  spot  where  Alvarado  made  his  famous  pole-vault 
is  near  the  Buena  Vista  station,  but  no  jumping  is 
longer  necessary  —  except  perhaps  to  dodge  a  pass- 
ing trolley.  Instead  of  the  lake  of  Tenochtitlan 
days  there  is  the  flattest  of  rich  valleys  beyond. 
The  "  Tree  of  the  Dismal  Night,"  a  huge  cypress 
under  which  Cortez  is  said  to  have  wept  as  he 
watched  the  broken  remnants  of  his  army  file  past, 
is  now  hardly  more  than  an  enormous,  hollow,  burned- 
out  stump,  with  a  few  huge  branches  that  make  it 


A  part  of  Puebla,  looking  toward  the  ])cak  of  Orizaba 


Popocatei)ctl  and  tlio  artificial  liill  of  Choliila  on  whicli  tlic  Aztecs 
had  a  famous  temj)le,  overt lirowii  l)y  Cortez 


\jAi^  nuA'J   ^T^  "a-iA^ 


TENOCHTITLAN  OF  TO-DAY  203 

look  at  a  distance  like  a  flourishing  tree  still  in  the 
green  prime  of  life.  The  day  was  rainy  and  a  cold, 
raw  wind  blew.  The  better-clad  classes  were  in  over- 
coats, and  the  peons  in  their  cotton  rags  wound  them- 
selves in  blankets,  old  carpets,  newspapers,  anything 
whatever,  huddling  in  doorways  or  any  suggestion  of 
shelter.  Cold  brings  far  more  suffering  in  warm 
countries  than  in  these  of  real  winters. 

The  comandante  of  notorious  old  Belen  prison 
in  the  capital  spoke  English  fluently,  but  he  did  not 
show  pleasure  at  my  visit.  An  under-oflBcial  led  me 
to  the  flat  roof,  with  a  bird's-eye  view  of  the  miser- 
able, rambling,  old  stone  building.  Its  large  patios 
were  literally  packed  with  peon  prisoners.  The  life 
within  was  an  almost  exact  replica  of  that  on  the 
streets  of  the  capital,  even  to  hawkers  of  sweets,  fruit- 
vendors,  and  the  rest,  while  up  from  them  rose  a 
decaying  stench  as  from  the  steerage  quarters  of 
old  transatlantic  liners.  Those  who  choose,  work  at 
their  trade  within  as  outside.  By  night  the  prison- 
ers are  herded  together  in  hundreds  from  sis  to  six 
in  the  wretched  old  dungeon-like  rooms.  Nothing 
apparently  is  prohibited,  and  prisoners  may  indulge 
with  impunity  in  anything  from  cigarettes  to  adult- 
ery, for  which  they  can  get  the  raw  materials. 

The  excursion  out  to  the  Ajusco  range,  south  of 
tTie  city,  was  on  the  verge  of  danger.  Zapata  hung 
about  Cuernavaca  and  marauders  frequently  ap- 
proached the  very  outskirts  of  the  capital.     Under 


204       TRAMPING  THROUGH  MEXICO 

our  knapsacks  we  struck  upward  through  the  stony 
village  where  the  train  had  set  us  down,  and  along  a 
narrow  road  that  soon  buried  itself  in  pine  forests. 
A  bright  clear  stream  came  tumbling  sharply  down, 
and  along  this  we  climbed.  A  mile  or  more  but  we 
picked  up  at  a  thatched  hut  an  Indian  boy  of  ten  as 
burden-bearer  and  guide,  though  we  continued  to 
carry  most  of  our  own  stuff  and  to  trust  largely  to 
our  own  sense  of  direction.  Above  came  a  three- 
hour  climb  through  pine-forested  mountains,  such  as 
the  Harz  might  be  without  the  misfortune  of  German 
spick  and  spanness.  He  who  starts  at  an  elevation 
of  7500  feet  and  climbs  4000  upward  in  a  brief  space 
of  time,  with  a  burden  on  his  back,  knows  he  is  mount- 
ing. Occasionally  a  dull-gray  glimpse  of  the  hazy 
valley  of  Mexico  broke  through  the  trees ;  about  us 
was  an  out-of-the-way  stillness,  tempered  only  by  the 
sound  of  birds.  About  noon  the  thick  forest  of  great 
pine  trees  ceased  as  suddenly  as  if  nature  had  drawn 
a  dead-line  about  the  brow  of  the  mountain.  A  foot 
above  it  was  nothing  but  stunted  oak  growths  and 
tufts  of  bunch-grass  large  as  the  top  of  a  palm-tree. 
On  the  flat  summit,  with  hints  through  the  tree-tops 
below  of  the  great  vale  of  Anahuac,  we  halted  to  share 
the  bulk  of  our  burdens  with  the  Indian  boy,  who 
had  not  brought  his  "  itacate."  The  air  was 
most  exhilarating  and  clear  as  glass,  though  there 
was  not  enough  of  it  to  keep  us  from  panting  madly 
at  each  exertion.     In  the  shade  it  was  cold  even  in 


TENOCHTITLAN  OF  TO-DAY  205 

heavy  coats ;  but  merely  to  step  out  into  the  sun- 
shine was  to  bask  like  lizards. 

Our  "  guide  "  lost  no  time  in  losing  us,  and  we 
started  at  random  down  the  sharp  face  of  the  moun- 
tain to  the  valley  4000  feet  almost  directly  below  us. 
Suddenly  a  break  in  the  trees  opened  out  a  most 
marvelous  view  of  the  entire  valley  of  Mexico.  Po- 
pocatepetl and  Ixtaccihuatl  stood  out  as  clearly 
under  their  brilliant  white  mantles  of  new-fallen  snow 
as  if  they  were  not  sixty  but  one  mile  away,  every 
crack  and  seam  fully  visible,  and  the  fancied  likeness 
of  the  second  to  a  sleeping  woman  was  from  this 
point  striking.  The  contrast  was  great  between  the 
dense  green  of  the  pine  forests  and  the  velvety,  brown 
plain  with  its  full,  shallow  lakes  unplumbcd  fathoms 
below.  Farther  down  we  came  out  on  the  very 
break-neck  brink  of  a  vast  amphitheater  of  hills,  with 
"  las  ventanas,"  huge,  sheer,  rock  cliffs  shaped  like 
great  cathedral  windows,  an  easy  stone-throw  away 
but  entirely  inaccessible  to  any  but  an  aviator,  for 
an  unconscionable  gorge  carpeted  with  bright  green 
tree-tops  lay  between.  I  proposed  descending  the 
face  of  the  cliff  below  us,  and  led  the  way  down  a 
thousand  feet  or  more,  only  to  come  to  the  absolutely 
sheer  rock  end  of  things  where  it  would  have  taken 
half  the  afternoon  to  drop  to  the  carpet  of  forest 
below. 

There  was  nothing  to  do  but  to  climb  out  again 
and  skirt  the  brink  of  the  canyon.     In  the  rare  air 


206       TRAMPING  THROUGH  MEXICO 

we  were  certain  a  score  of  times  of  being  about  to 
drop  dead  from  exhaustion,  yet  a  two-minute  rest 
always  brought  full  recovery.  Then  came  a  wild 
scramble  of  an  hour  along  sheer  rocks  thick  draped 
with  moss  that  pealed  off  in  square  yards  almost  as 
often  as  we  stepped  on  it,  and  threatened  to  drop  us 
more  than  a  half-mile  to  the  tree-tops  below.  Climb- 
ing, clinging,  and  circling  through  a  wilderness  of  un- 
dergrowth amid  the  vast  forest  of  still,  dense-green 
pines,  but  with  such  views  of  the  valley  of  Mexico 
and  the  great  snow-clads  as  to  reward  any  possible 
exertion,  we  flanked  at  last  the  entire  canyon.  In  the 
forest  itself  every  inch  of  ground  was  carpeted  with 
thick  moss,  more  splendid  than  the  weavings  of  any 
loom  of  man,  into  which  the  feet  sank  noiselessly. 
Everywhere  the  peaceful  stillness  was  tempered  only 
by  a  slight  humming  of  the  trees,  and  the  songs  of 
myriad  birds,  not  a  human  being  within  screaming 
distance,  unless  some  gcang  of  bandits  stalked  us  in 
the  depth  of  the  forest.  More  likely  they  were  by 
now  sodden  with  the  aftermath  of  Sunday  festivities, 
and  anyway  we  were  armed  "  hasta  los  dientes." 

At  length,  as  the  day  was  nearing  its  close,  we  fell 
into  what  had  once  been  a  trail.  It  was  moss-grown 
and  wound  erratically  in  and  out  among  the  trees, 
but  went  steadily  down,  very  level  compared  to  the 
work  of  the  preceding  hours,  yet  so  steep  we  several 
times  spread  out  at  full  length  to  slide  a  rod  or  more. 
The  sun  was  setting  when  we  came  to  the  bottom  of 


TENOCHTITLAN  OF  TO-DAY         207 

"  las  ventanas  "  only  a  couple  thousand  feet  from 
where  we  had  first  caught  sight  of  them  hours  before. 
Thereafter  the  trail  moderated  its  pace  and  led  us  to 
the  most  beautiful  thing  of  the  day,  a  clear  ice-cold 
stream  at  the  bottom  of  the  cliffs.  We  all  but  drank 
it  dry.  Then  on  out  of  the  canyon  and  across  a 
vast  field  of  rye,  back  of  which  the  great  gorge  stood 
like  some  immense  stadium,  with  stalwart  athletic 
pines  filling  all  the  seats.  This  is  the  spot  where 
Wallace's  "  Fair  God  "  burst  forth  upon  the  valley. 
We  descended  between  immense  walls  of  pines,  half 
unseen  in  the  dusk  and  framing  a  V-shapcd  bit  of  the 
vale  of  Anahuac,  a  perfect  crimson  fading  to  rose 
color,  culminating  in  the  pink-tinted  snow-clads 
above. 

At  dark  we  left  the  boy  at  his  hut,  on  the  walls 
of  which  his  father  had  just  hung  the  two  deer  of 
that  daj^'s  hunt.  There_was  no  hope  of  catching 
the  afternoon  train  from  Cuernavaca,  and  we  laid 
plans  to  tramp  on  across  the  valley  floor  to  Tizapan. 
But_Mexican  procrastination  sometimes  has  its  ^^r- 
tucs,  and  we  were  delighted  to  find  the  station  crowded 
with  those  waiting  for  the  delayed  convoy  that  ten 
minutes  later  was  bearing  us  cityward  through  the 
cool  highland  night. 

I  had  hoped  to  walk  from  ^lexico  Cit\'  to  the  capi- 
tal of  Honduras.  That  portion  of  the  route  from 
former  Tenochtitlan  to  Oaxaca  and  the  Isthmus  of 
Tehuantepec,  however,  was   not   then   a   promising 


ms       TRAMPING  THROUGH  MEXICO 

field  for  tramping  by  any  one  with  any  particular 
interest  in  arriving.  I  concluded  to  flank  it  by  train. 
It  was  a  chilly  gray  day  when  the  little  narrow-gage 
train  bore  us  close  by  the  miraculous  temple  of 
Guadalupe,  with  its  hilltop  cemetery  and  stone  sails, 
and  into  the  vast  fields  of  maguey  beyond.  Peons 
and  donkeys  without  number,  the  former  close 
wrapped  in  their  colored  blankets,  the  latter  looking 
as  if  they  would  like  to  be,  enlivened  the  roads  and 
trails.  We  skirted  the  shore  of  dull  Lake  Tcxcoco, 
once  so  much  larger  and  even  now  only  a  few  inches 
below  the 'level  of  the  flat  plain,  recalling  that  the 
Tenochtitlan  of  the  Conquest  was  an  island  reached 
only  by  causeways.  At  San  Juan  Teotihuacan,  the 
famous  pyramids  lost  in  the  nebulous  haze  of  pre- 
Toltec  history  bulked  forth  from  the  plain  and  for 
many  miles  beyond.  The  smaller,  called  that  of  the 
]\Ioon,  was  a  mere  squat  mound  of  earth.  But  the 
larger  had  lately  been  cleared  off^,  and  was  now  of  a 
light  cement  color,  rising  in  four  terraces  with  a  low 
monument  or  building  on  the  summit.  It  contains 
about  the  same  material  as  the  pyramid  of  Cheops, 
but  is  larger  at  the  base  and  by  no  means  so  high, 
thereby  losing  something  of  the  majesty  of  its  Egyp- 
tian counterpart. 

A  cheery  sun  appeared,  but  the  air  remained  cool. 
Fields  of  maguey  in  mathematically  straight  lines 
stretched  up  and  away  out  of  sight  over  broad  rolling 
ridges.     I  had  put  off*  the  experience  of  tasting  the 


TENOCHTITLAN  OF  TO-DAY  209 

product  until  I  should  reach  Apam,  the  center  of  the 
pulque  industry.  At  that  station  an  old  woman 
sold  me  a  sort  of  flower-pot  full  of  the  stuff  at  two 
cents.  ;  I  expected  to  taste  and  throw  it  awa3\  In- 
stead there  came  a  regret  that  I  had  not  taken  to 
it  long  before.  It  was  of  the  consistency  and  color 
of  milk,  with  a  suggestion  of  buttermilk  in  its  taste 
and  fully  as  palatable  as  the  latter,  with  no  notice- 
able evidence  of  intoxicating  properties.  No  doubt 
this  would  come  with  age,  as  well  as  the  sour  stink 
peculiar  to  the  pulquerias  of  the  cities. 

The  train  made  a  mighty  sweep  to  the  northward 
to  escape  from  the  central  valley,  bringing  a  much 
closer  and  better  view  of  the  two  snow-clads,  first  on 
one,  then  on  the  farther  side.  By  choice  I  should 
have  climbed  up  over  the  "  saddle  "  between  them,  as 
Cortez  first  entered  the  realms  of  ^lontezuma.  A 
dingy  branch  line  bore  us  off  across  broken  country 
with  much  corn  toward  Puebla.  On  the  left  was  a 
view  of  IVIalinche,  famous  in  the  storj^  of  the  Conquest, 
its  summit  hidden  in  clouds.  I  was  now  in  the  Rhode 
Island  of  Mexico,  the  tiny  State  of  Tlaxcala,  the 
"  LamLof -Corn,"  to  the  assistance  from  which  Cortez 
owes  his  fame.  The  ancient  state  capital  of  the 
same  name  has  been  slighted  by  the  railwa}'^  and  only 
a  few  decrepit  mule-cars  connect  it  with  the  outer 
world.  I  slighted  these,  and  leaving  my  possessions 
in  the  station  of  Santa  Ana,  set  off  through  a  rolling 
and  broken,  dry  and  dusty,  yet  fertile  country,  with 


210       TRAMPING  THROUGH  MEXICO 

the  wind  rustling  weirdly  through  the  dead  brown 
fields  of  corn.  The  inhabitants  of  the  backward 
little  capital  were  even  more  than  usually  indifferent 
to  "  gringocs,"  seldom  giving  me  more  than  a  glance 
unless  I  asked  a  question,  and  even  leaving  me  to 
scribble  my  notes  in  peace  in  a  shaded  plaza  bench. 
/  There  is  nothing  but  its  historical  memories  of  spe- 
cial interest  in  Tlaxcala.  It  is  a  town  of  some  3000 
inhabitants,  a  few  hundred  feet  higher  than  jNIexico 
City,  with  many  ancient  buildings,  mostly  of  stone, 
often  mere  ruins,  from  the  seams  of  surely  half  of 
which  sprout  grass  and  flowers,  as  they  do  between 
the  cobbles  of  its  streets  and  its  large  rambling  plaza. 
I  visited  the  old  church  on  the  site  of  which  Christi- 
anity —  of  the  Spanish  brand  —  was  first  preached 
on  the  American  continent.  Here  was  the  same  In- 
dian realism  as  elsewhere  in  the  republic.  One 
Cristo  had  "  blood "  pouring  in  a  veritable  river 
from  his  side,  his  face  was  completely  smeared  with  it, 
his  knees  and  shins  were  skinned  and  barked  and  cov- 
ered with  blood,  which  had  even  dripped  on  his  toes ; 
the  elbows  and  other  salient  points  were  in  worse  con- 
dition than  those  of  a  wrestler  after  a  championship 
bout,  and  the  body  was  tattooed  with  many  strange 
arabesques.  There  were  other  figures  in  almost  as 
distressing  a  state.  A  god  only  ordinarily  mal- 
treated could  not  excite  the  pity  or  interest  of  the 
Mexican  Indian,  whose  every-day  life  has  its  own 
share  of  barked  shins  and  painful   adversities.     It 


^yf;¥^ 


■  h-'mf 


TENOCHTITLAN  OF  TO-DAY  213 

was  amusing  to  find  this  village,  hardly  larger  than 
many  a  one  about  the  home  of  Mexican  hacendados, 
the  capital  of  a  State.  But  the  squads  of  rurales 
and  uniformed  police  and  the  civil  employees  of  Gov- 
ernment were  very  solemn  with  their  responsibilities. 
I  had  seen  it  all  in  an  hour  or  two  and  drifted  back 
along  the  five  lazy  miles  to  Santa  Ana.  Tlaxcala 
lies  between  two  gaunt  broken  ridges,  with  rugged 
chains  all  about  it,  yet  the  little  State  is  by  no  means 
so  completely  fenced  in  by  nature  as  the  imagination 
that  has  fed  on  Prescott  pictures. 

Puebla,  third  city  of  iMexico,  is  even  colder  than 
the  capital.  The  snow-clads  of  the  latter  look 
down  upon  it  from  the  west,  and  far  away  to  the 
east  stands  Orizaba,  highest  peak  of  Mexico.  In 
the  haze  of  sunset  its  great  mantle  of  new-fallen 
snow  stood  out  sharply,  darker  streaks  that  ran 
down  through  the  lower  reaches  of  snow  dying  out 
in  nothingness,  as  the  mountain  did  itself,  for  as  a 
matter  of  fact  the  latter  was  not  visible  at  all,  but 
only  the  snow  that  covered  its  upper  heights,  sur- 
rounded above,  below,  and  on  all  sides  by  the  thin 
gray  sky  of  evening.  By  night  there  was  music  in 
the  plaza.  But  how  can  there  be  life  and  laughter 
where  a  half-dozen  blankets  are  incapable  of  keep- 
ing the  promenaders  comfortable?  In  all  the  frigid 
town  there  was  not  a  single  fire,  except  in  the  little 
bricked  holes  full  of  charcoal  over  which  the  place 
does  its  cooking.     Close  to  my  hotel  was  the  "  Casa 


214       TRAMPING  THROUGH  MEXICO 

Serdan,"  Its  windows  all  broken  and  its  stucco  front 
riddled  with  bullet  holes,  for  it  was  here  that  two 
brothers,  barricading  themselves  against  the  govern- 
ment of  Porfirio  Diaz,  spilled  the  first  blood  of  the 
long  series  of  revolutions  and  worse  that  has  fol- 
lowed. Already  the  name  of  the  street  had  been 
changed  to  "  Calle  de  los  Martires  de  Noviembre, 
1910." 

It  is  nearly  three  hours'  walk  from  the  plaza  of 
Puebla  to  that  of  Cholula,  the  Benares  of  the  Aztecs, 
and  for  him  who  rises  early  it  is  a  cold  one.  What 
little  romance  remains  would  have  fled  had  I  made 
the  trip  by  mule-car.  As  it  was,  I  could  easily 
drop  back  mentally  into  the  days  of  the  Conquest, 
for  under  the  brilliant  cloudless  sky  as  I  surmounted 
a  bit  of  height  there  lay  all  the  historic  scene  be- 
fore me  —  the  vast  dipping  plain  with  the  ancient 
pyramid  of  Cholula,  topped  now  by  a  white  church 
with  towers  and  dome,  standing  boldly  forth  across 
it,  and  beyond,  yet  seeming  so  close  one  half  ex- 
pected an  avalanche  of  their  snows  to  come  down 
upon  the  town,  towering  Popocatepetl  and  her  sister, 
every  little  vale  and  hollow  of  the  "  saddle "  be- 
tween clear  as  at  a  yard  distance.  Then  to  the  left, 
Malinche  and  the  rolling  stony  hills  of  Tlaxcala, 
along  which  the  Spaniards  advanced,  with  the  beauti- 
ful cone  of  Orizaba  rising  brilliant  and  clear  nearly 
a  hundred  miles  away.     The  great  rampart  separat- 


TENOCHTITLAN  OF  TO-DAY  215 

ing  them  from  the  cherished  valley  must  have  brought 
bated  breath  even  to  the  hardj  soldiers  of  Cortez. 

This  unsurpassed  view  accompanied  all  the  rest 
of  the  peaceful  morning  walk.  By  nine  I  was  climb- 
ing the  great  pyramid  from  the  top  of  which  the  in- 
trepid Spaniard  tumbled  down  the  ancient  gods,  and 
about  which  occurred  the  first  of  the  many  whole- 
sale massacres  of  Indians  on  the  American  continent. 
To-day  it  is  merely  a  large  hill,  overgrown  on  all 
sides  with  grass,  trees,  and  flowers,  and  with  almost 
nothing  to  bear  out  the  tradition  that  it  was  man- 
built.  From  the  top  spreads  a  scene  rarely  sur- 
passed. Besides  the  four  mountains,  the  ancient  and 
modern  town  of  Cholula  lies  close  below,  with  many 
another  village,  especially  their  bulking  churches, 
standing  forth  on  all  sides  about  the  rich  valley, 
cut  up  into  squares  and  rectangles  of  rich-brown 
corn  alternating  with  bright  green,  a  gaunt,  low, 
wall-like  range  cutting  off  the  entire  circle  of  the 
horizon.  The  faint  music  of  church  bells  from  many 
a  town  miles  away  rode  by  on  a  wind  with  the  nip 
of  the  mountain  snows  in  it.  But  Prescott  has  al- 
ready described  the  scene  with  a  fidelity  that  seems 
uncanny  from  one  who  never  beheld  it  except  in  his 
mind's  eye. 

To-day  the  pyramid  is  sacred  to  the  "  Virgin  of 
the  Remedies."  Gullible  pilgrims  come  from  many 
leagues  around  to  be  cured  of  their  ills,  and  have 


216      TRAMPING  THROUGH  MEXICO 

left  behind  hundreds  of  doll-like  figures  of  themselves 
or  the  ailing  limb  or  member  made  of  candle  wax 
that  breaks  to  bits  between  the  fingers.  Then  there 
are  huge  candles  without  number,  martyrs  and  cru- 
cifixions, with  all  the  disgusting  and  bloody  features 
of  elsewhere ;  every  kind  and  degree  and  shape  and 
size  of  fetish.  Cholula  needs  badly  another  Cortez 
to  tumble  her  gods  down  to  the  plain  below  and  drive 
out  the  hordes  of  priests  that  sacrifice  their  flocks 
none  the  less  surely,  if  less  bloodily,  than  their  Aztec 
predecessors. 

A  bright  red  sun  came  up  as  the  train  swung 
round  to  the  eastward,  hugging  the  flanks  of  Ma- 
linche,  and  rumbled  away  across  a  sandy,  very 
dry,  but  fertile  country,  broken  by  huge  barrancas 
or  washouts,  and  often  with  maguey  hedges.  Most 
of  my  day  was  given  up  to  Mr. —  come  to  think 
of  it,  I  did  not  even  get  his  name.  He  drifted  into 
the  train  at  the  junction  and  introduced  himself  by 
remarking  that  it  was  not  bad  weather  thereabouts. 
He  was  a  tall,  spare  man  of  fifty,  in  a  black  suit 
rather  disarranged  and  a  black  felt  hat  somewhat 
the  worse  for  wear.  He  carried  a  huge  pressed- 
cardboard  "  telescope  "  and  wore  a  cane,  though  it 
hardly  seemed  cold  enough  for  one.  His  language 
was  that  of  a  half-schooled  man,  with  the  paucity 
of  vocabulary  and  the  grammar  of  a  ship's  captain 
who  had  left  school  early  but  had  since  read  much 
and  lived  more.     Whenever  a  noun  failed  him,  which 


Looking  doAvu  uii  Alaltrata  as  the  train  begins  its  descent 


A  residence  of  the  Isthmus  of  Tehuantepec 


TENOCHTITLAN  OF  TO-DAY  219 

was  often,  he  filled  in  the  blank  with  the  word  "  propo- 
sition." Like  myself,  he  traveled  second-class  be- 
cause there  was  no  fourth. 

It  may  be  that  the  biography  which  pieced  it- 
self unconsciously  together  as  he  talked  needs  a 
sprinkle  of  salt  here  and  there,  but  it  all  had  the  car- 
marks  of  veracity.  He  was  a  Briton,  once  a  sur- 
geon In  the  British  army,  with  the  rank  of  captain, 
saw  service  with  Roberts  in  Egypt,  and  was  with 
Kitchener  at  the  relief  of  Khartum.  Later  he  served 
in  India  with  the  Scotch  Grays.  He  looked  the 
part,  and  had,  moreover,  the  accent  and  scars  to  go 
with  it.  Glimpses  through  his  conversation  into  the 
background  beyond  suggested  he  had  since  been  in 
most  parts  of  the  world.  He  liked  Argentina  best 
and  the  United  States  least,  as  a  place  of  resi- 
dence. Practising  as  a  physician  and  oculist,  he  had 
amassed  a  moderate  fortune,  all  of  which  he  had 
lost,  together  with  his  wife  and  child,  and  possibly 
a  bit  of  his  own  wits,  in  the  flood  of  Monterey. 
Since  that  catastrophe  he  had  had  no  other  ambi- 
tion than  to  earn  enough  to  drift  on  through  life. 
With  neither  money  nor  instruments  left,  he  took  to 
teaching  English  to  the  wealthier  class  of  Mexicans 
in  various  parts  of  the  country,  now  in  mission 
schools,  now  as  private  tutor.  A  Methodist  insti- 
tution in  Queretaro  had  dispensed  with  his  services 
because  he  protested  against  an  order  to  make  life 
unpleasant  to  those  boys  who  did  not  respond  with 


220       TRAMPING  THROUGH  MEXICO 

their  spending  money  to  a  daily  call  for  alms  at 
the  morning  assembly.  Six  months  ago  he  had 
drifted  into  a  little  town  near  San  Marcos,  wearing 
the  title  of  "professor,"  and  got  together  a  class  of 
private  pupils,  chief  among  them  three  daughters  of 
a  wealthy  hacendado.  Rebels  came  one  day  and  in 
the  exuberance  that  follows  a  full  meal  long  delayed, 
with  pulque  embroidery,  one  of  them  fired  two  shots 
through  the  window  not  far  from  his  venerable  Brit- 
ish head.  The  "  professor  "  picked  up  a  two-foot 
mahogany  ruler,  marched  out  into  the  plaza  and, 
rapping  the  startled  rebel  over  the  skull,  took  his 
rifle  away  from  him  and  turned  it  over  to  the  de- 
lighted jefe  politico.  From  then  on  his  future 
seemed  assured,  for  if  the  rest  of  the  town  was  poor, 
the  hacendado's  wealth  was  only  rivaled  by  his 
daughters'  longing  for  English. 

But  life  is  a  sad  proposition  at  best.  On  the  Mon- 
day preceding  our  meeting  the  "  professor  "  sat  with 
his  pupils  in  the  shade  of  the  broad  hacienda  veranda 
when  he  saw  two  priests  wandering  toward  the 
house  "  like  Jews  with  a  pack  of  clothing  to  sell." 
"  It 's  all  up  with  the  Swede,"  he  told  himself  ac- 
cording to  his  own  testimony.  The  prophecy 
proved  only  too  true.  The  padres  had  come  to  or- 
der that  the  three  daughters  be  god-mothers  to  the 
"  Cristo  "  (in  the  form  of  a  gaudy  doll)  that  was 
to  be  "  born  "  in  the  town  on  Christmas  eve  and  pa- 
raded to  the  cathedral  of  Puebla.     As  their  ticket 


TENOCHTITLAN  OF  TO-DAY  221 

to  heaven  depended  upon  obedience,  none  of  the  faith- 
ful senoritas  dreamed  of  declining  the  honor,  even 
though  it  involved  the  expenditure  of  considerable  of 
papa's  good  money  and  required  them  to  spend  most 
of  the  time  until  Christmas  rehearsing  for  the  cere- 
mony and  "  praising  the  glory  of  God "  with  the 
priests  in  a  room  of  the  church,  locked  against 
worldly  intruders.  Naturally  this  left  them  no  time 
for  English.  His  mainstay  gone,  the  "  professor  " 
threw  up  the  sponge  and  struck  out  for  pastures  new, 
carrying  his  trunk-like  "  telescope "  two  hot  and 
sandy  leagues  to  catch  this  morning  train. 

At  Esperanza  the  Briton  went  me  one  better  on 
my  own  custom  of  "  living  on  the  country."  To 
the  enchiladas,  large  tortillas  red  with  pepper-sauce 
and  generously  filled  with  onions,  and  the  smaller 
tortillas  covered  with  scraps  of  meat  and  boiled  egg 
which  we  bought  of  the  old  women  and  boj's  that 
flocked  about  the  train,  he  added  a  liter  of  pulque. 
Not  far  beyond,  we  reached  Boca  del  Monte,  the 
edge  of  the  great  plateau  of  Mexico.  A  wealth  of 
scenery  opened  out.  From  the  window  was  a  truly 
bird's-eye  view  of  the  scattered  town  of  Maltrata, 
more  than  two  thousand  feet  almost  directly  below 
in  the  center  of  a  rich  green  valle}',  about  the  edge 
of  which,  often  on  the  y^vy  brink  of  the  thick-clothed 
precipice,  the  train  wound  round  and  round  behind 
the  double-headed  engine,  traveling  to  every  point 
of  the  compass  in  its  descent.     The  town  rose  up 


222       TRAMPING  THROUGH  MEXICO 

to  us  at  last  and  for  the  first  time  since  mounting 
to  San  Luis  Potosi  two  months  before,  I  found  my- 
self less  than  a  mile  above  sea-level.  Instead  of 
the  often  bare,  wind-swept  plateau,  immense  weeds 
of  the  banana  family  grew  up  about  us,  and  a  beau- 
tiful winding  vale  reeking  with  damp  vegetation 
stretched  before  and  behind  us  as  we  slid  onward. 
High  above  all  else  and  much  farther  away  than  it 
seemed,  stood  the  majestic,  snow-white  peak  of 
Orizaba.  In  mid-afternoon  we  descended  at  the  city 
of  that  name. 

It  was  large,  but  really  a  village  in  every  fea- 
ture of  life.  Here  again  were  the  broad  eaves  of 
one-stor}',  tile-roofed  houses,  stretching  well  out  over 
the  badly  cobbled  streets,  down  the  center  of  which 
ran  open  sewers.  The  place  was  unkempt  and  un- 
clean, with  many  evidences  of  poverty,  and  the  air 
so  heavy  and  humid  that  vegetation  grew  even  on 
the  roofs.  I  wandered  about  town  with  the  "  pro- 
fessor "  while  he  "  sized  it  up  "  as  a  possible  scene 
of  his  future  labors,  but  he  did  not  find  it  promising. 
^ By  night  Orizaba  was  still  well  above  the  tropics  and 
the  single  blanket  on  the  hotel  cot  proved  far  from 
sufficient  even  with  its  brilliant  red  hue. 


CHAPTER  VII 


TKOPICAL    MEXICO 


IT  is  merely  a  long  jump  with  a  drop  of  two  thou- 
sand feet  from  Orizaba  to  Cordoba.  But  the 
train  takes  eighteen  miles  of  winding,  squirming,  and 
tunneling  to  get  there.  On  the  way  is  some  of  the 
finest  scenery  in  Mexico.  The  route  circles  for  miles 
the  yawning  edge  of  a  valley  dense  with  vegetation, 
banana  and  orange  trees  without  number,  with  huts 
of  leaves  and  stalks  tucked  away  among  them,  myr- 
iads of  flowers  of  every  shade  and  color,  and  here 
and  there  coffee  bushes  festooned  with  their  red  ber- 
ries. The  dew  falls  so  heavily  in  this  region  that  the 
rank  growth  was  visibly  dripphig  with  it. 

At  somnolent  Cordoba  I  left  the  line  to  Vera  Cruz 
for  that  to  the  southward.     Tlie  car  was  packed  C^'*^^ 

with  the  dirty,  foul-tongued  wives  and  the  children         \\i  "^ 
and  bundles  of  a  company  of  soldiers  recently  sent    _  ^ .f^"* 
against  the  rebels  of  Juchitan.     Ever  since  leaving 
Boca  del  Monte  the  day  before  I  had  been  coming 
precipitously  down  out  of  INIexIco.     But  there  were 
still  descents  to  be  found,  and  the  train  raced  swiftly 

without  effort  in  and  out  through  ever  denser  jungle,  ^ 

225 


226       TRAMPING  THROUGH  MEXICO 

magnificent  in  colors,  alive  with  birds,  a  land  in  each 
square  yard  of  whicli  the  traveler  feels  a  longing  to 
pause  and  dwell  for  a  while,  to  swing  languidly  under 
the  trees,  gazing  at  the  snow  peak  of  Orizaba  now 
growing  farther  and  farther  awa3\ 

Our  conveyance  was  a  species  of  way-freight, 
which  whiled  awa}'^  most  of  the  day  at  a  speed  fit- 
tingly respectful  to  the  scenery  about  us.  With 
every  station  the  population  grew  perceptibly  more 
lazy.  The  alert,  eager  attitude  of  the  plateau  gave 
place  to  a  languorous  lethargy  evident  in  both  faces 
and  movements.  People  seemed  less  sulky  than  those 
higher  up,  more  communicative  and  approachable, 
but  also,  strangely  enough,  less  courteous,  apparently 
from  laziness,  a  lack  of  the  energy  necessary  for  liv- 
ing up  to  the  rules  of  that  Mexican  virtue.  They 
answered  readily  enough,  but  abruptly  and  indiffer- 
ently, and  fell  quickly  into  their  customary  som- 
nolence. For  a  time  we  skirted  the  Rio  Blanco,  boil- 
ing away  toward  the  sea.  Oranges  were  so  plenti- 
ful they  hung  rotting  on  the  trees.  The  jungle  was 
dense,  though  by  no  means  so  much  so  as  those  of  the 
Far  East.  On  either  hand  were  hundreds  of  native 
shacks  —  mongrel  little  huts  of  earth  floors,  trans- 
parent walls  of  a  sort  of  corn-stalk,  and  a  thick, 
top-heavy  roof  of  jungle  grass  or  banana  leaves,  set 
carelessly  in  bits  of  space  chopped  out  of  the  ram- 
pant jungle.     Now  and  then  we  passed  gangs  of  men 


TROPICAL  MEXICO  227 

fighting  back  the  vegetation  that  threatened  to  swal- 
low up  the  track  completely. 

Beautiful  palm-trees  began  to  abound,  perfectly 
round,  slender  stems  supporting  hundreds  of  immense 
leaves  hanging  edgewise  in  perfect  arch  shape,  per- 
haps the  most  symmetrical  of  all  nature's  works. 
What  is  there  about  the  palm-tree  so  romantic  and 
pleasing  to  the  spirits?  Its  whisper  of  perpetual 
summer,  of  perennial  life,  perhaps.  Great  luscious 
pineapples  sold  through  the  windows  at  two  or  three 
cents  each.  The  peons  of  this  region  carried  a 
machete  in  a  leather  scabbard,  but  still  wore  a  folded 
blanket  over  one  shoulder,  suggesting  chilly  nights. 
The  general  apathy  of  the  population  began  to  mani- 
fest itself  now  in  the  paucity  of  hawkers  at  the  sta- 
tions. On  the  plateau  the  train  seldom  halted  with- 
out being  surrounded  by  a  jostling  crowd,  fighting 
to  sell  their  meager  wares ;  here  they  either  lolled  in 
the  shade  of  their  banana  groves,  waiting  for  pur- 
chasers to  come  and  inspect  their  displays  of  fruit, 
or  they  did  not  even  trouble  to  offer  anything  for 
sale.  Why  should  man  work  when  his  food  drops 
year  by  year  into  his  lap  without  even  replanting? 
Moreover,  flat  noses  and  kinky  hair  were  growing 
more  and  more  in  evidence. 

Not  all  was  jungle.  As  the  mountains  died  down 
and  faded  away  in  the  west  there  opened  out  many 
broad  meadows  in  which  were  countless  sleek  cattle 


228       TRAMPING  THROUGH  MEXICO 

tended  by  somnolent  herdsmen  on  horseback.  Much 
sugar-cane  grew,  lengths  of  which  were  sold  to  the 
brawling  soldiers'  wives  and  the  carload  in  general, 
which  was  soon  reeking  with  the  juice  and  chewed 
pulp.  By  afternoon  jungle  was  a  rarity  and  most 
of  the  country  was  a  rich  sort  of  prairie  with  cattle 
without  number,  and  here  and  there  an  immense  tree 
to  break  the  monotony.  These  rich  bottomlands 
that  seemed  capable  of  producing  anything  in  un- 
limited quantities  were  almost  entirely  uncultivated. 
At  several  stations  there  bulked  above  the  throng 
white  men  in  appearance  like  a  cross  between  farmers 
and  missionaries,  the  older  ones  heavily  bearded. 
For  a  time  I  could  not  catalogue  them.  Then,  as 
we  pulled  out  of  one  town,  two  of  what  but  for  their 
color  and  size  I  should  have  taken  for  peons  raced 
for  the  last  car-step,  one  shouting  to  the  other  in  the 
strongest  of  Hoosier  accents : 

"  Come  on,  Bud,  let 's  jemp  'er  !  " 

Which  both  did,  riding  some  sixty  feet,  and  dropped 
ofF  like  men  who  had  at  last  had  their  one  daily  ex- 
citement. Inquiry  proved  that  they  belonged  to  a 
colony  of  Mormons  that  has  settled  in  several  groups 
in  this  region,  where  nature  sets  their  creed  a  pro- 
lific example. 

Unbroken  prairies,  in  their  tropical  form,  now 
stretched  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach,  with  just  the 
shade  of  a  shadowy  range  in  the  far  west.  The  heat 
had    not    once    grown    oppressive    during   the    day. 


TROPICAL  MEXICO  2«9 

With  dusk  it  turned  almost  cold.  We  wound  slowly 
on  into  the  damp,  heavy  night,  a  faint  full  moon 
struggling  to  tear  itself  a  peep-hole  through  the 
clouds,  and  finally  at  ten,  seat-sore  with  fifteen  hours 
of  slat-bench  riding,  pulled  up  at  Santa  Lucrecia. 

It  was  just  such  a  town  as  dozens  of  others  we  had 
passed  that  day ;  a  plain  station  building  surrounded 
unevenly  by  a  score  or  so  of  banana-grove  huts. 
Here  ends  the  railroad  southward,  j  oining  that  across 
the  Isthmus  of  Tehuantepec.  From  the  track  of  the 
latter  a  wooden  sidewalk  that  rang  drum-hollow  un- 
der my  heels  led  across  a  gully  of  unknown  depth  in 
the  black  night  to  the  Hotel  "El  Sol  Mejicano," 
standing-room  for  which  had  been  gashed  out  of  the 
jungle.  It  was  a  wooden  and  sheet-iron  building  on 
stilts,  swarming  even  at  night  with  dirty  children, 
pigs,  chickens,  and  yellow  dogs,  and  presided  over  by 
a  glassy-ej'ed,  slatternly  woman  of  French  anteced- 
ents, the  general  shape  of  a  wine-skin  three-fourths 
full,  and  of  a  ghoulish  instinct  toward  the  purses  of 
travelers.  In  one  end  were  a  dozen  "  rooms,"  sep- 
arated by  partitions  reaching  half  way  to  the  sheet- 
iron  roof,  and  in  the  other  a  single  combination  of 
grocery  and  general  store,  saloon  and  pool-table,  as- 
sorted filth  and  the  other  attributes  of  outposts  of 
civilization.  The  chambers  were  not  for  rent,  but 
only  the  privilege  of  occupying  one  of  the  several  beds 
in  each.  These  fortunately  were  fairly  clean,  with 
good  springs  and  mosquito  canopies,  but  with  only  a 


230       TRAMPING  THROUGH  MEXICO 

quilt  for  mattress  —  unless  it  was  meant  for  cover  — 
a  single  sheet,  and  the  usual  two  little,  round,  hard 
mountainous  pillows.  Otherwise  the  cabins  were 
wholly  unfurnished,  even  to  windows.  The  train 
that  had  brought  us  in  spent  the  night  bucking  and 
jolting  back  and  forth  near  by ;  even  a  barefoot  serv- 
ant walking  anywhere  in  the  building  or  on  the  ver- 
anda set  the  edifice  rocking  as  in  an  earthquake ;  two 
Mexicans  occupjnng  the  "  room  "  next  to  my  own  — 
more  properly,  the  one  I  helped  occupy  —  bawled 
anecdotes  and  worse  at  the  top  of  their  voices  most 
of  the  night ;  guests  were  hawking  and  spitting  and 
coughing  incessantly  in  various  parts  of  the  house ; 
at  three  a  servant  began  beating  on  the  door  with 
something  in  the  nature  of  a  sledge-hammer  to  know 
if  I  wished  to  take  the  train  Atlantic-bound,  and  re- 
fused to  accept  a  negative  answer;  my  room-mate 
held  the  world's  record  for  snoring;  at  the  first  sug- 
gestion of  dawn  every  child,  chicken,  and  assorted 
animal  in  the  building  and  vicinity  set  up  its  greatest 
possible  uproar ;  and  I  was  half-frozen  all  night,  even 
under  all  the  clothing  I  possessed.  Except  for  these 
few  annoyances,  I  slept  splendidly.  There  was  at 
least  the  satisfaction  of  knowing  that  a  traveling  mil- 
lionaire obliged  to  pass  a  night  in  Santa  Lucrecia 
would  spend  it  no  better. 

Everything  was  dripping  wet  when  I  fled  back 
across  the  aerial  sidewalk  to  the  station.  It  was  not 
hot,  but  there  was  a  dense,  heavy  atmosphere  in  which 


TROPICAL  MEXICO  231 

one  felt  he  could  be  as  lively  and  industrious  as  else- 
where, yet  found  himself  dragging  listlessly  around 
as  the  never-do-anything-you-don't-have-to  inhabi- 
tants. Even  the  boyish  train  auditor  had  an  ir- 
responsible lackadaisical  manner,  and  permitted  all 
sorts  of  petty  railway  misdemeanors.  The  child- 
ishness of  tropical  peoples  was  evident  on  every  hand. 
There  was  no  second-class  car  on  this  line,  but  one 
third,  all  but  empty  when  we  started,  evidently  not 
because  most  bought  first-class  tickets  but  because 
the  auditor  was  of  the  tropics.  Endless  jungle  cov- 
ered all  the  visible  world,  with  only  the  line  of  rails 
crowding  through  it.  The  cocoanut  palms  and  those 
top-heavy  with  what  looked  like  enormous  bunches 
of  dates  soon  died  out  as  we  left  the  vicinity  of  the 
coast.  At  Rincon  Antonio  the  car  filled  up,  and 
among  the  new-comers  were  many  of  the  far-famed 
women  of  Tehuantepec.  Some  were  of  striking 
beauty,  almost  all  were  splendid  physical  specimens 
and  all  had  a  charming  and  alluring  smile.  They 
dressed  very  briefly  —  a  gay  square  of  cloth  about 
their  limbs,  carelessly  tucked  in  at  the  waist,  and  a 
sleeveless  upper  garment  that  failed  to  make  con- 
nections with  the  lower,  recalling  the  women  of  Cey- 
lon. The  absence  of  any  other  garments  was  all  too 
evident.  Almost  all  wore  in  their  jet-black  hair  a 
few  red  flowers,  all  displayed  six  inches  or  more  of 
silky  brown  skin  at  the  waist,  and  the  majority  wore 
necklaces  of  gold  coins,  generally  American  five  and 


232       TRAMPING  THROUGH  MEXICO 

ten  dollar  gold  pieces.  To  see  one  of  them  stretched 
out  at  full  length  on  a  seat,  smoking  a  cigarette  and 
in  animated  conversation  with  a  man  that  five  minutes 
before  had  been  a  total  stranger,  might  have  sug- 
gested a  certain  looseness  of  character.  But  this 
was  denied  by  their  facial  expression,  which  bore  out 
the  claim  of  a  chance  acquaintance  long  resident 
among  them  that  they  are  very  frank,  "  simple,"  and 
friendly,  but  far  more  apt  to  keep  within  a  well- 
defined  limit  than  the  average  of  tropical  women. 
Tehuantepec,  indeed,  is  the  land  of  "  woman's  rights." 
The  men  having  been  largely  killed  off  during  the 
days  of  Diaz,  the  feminine  stock  is  to-day  the  stur- 
dier, more  intelligent,  and  industrious,  and  arrogates 
to  itself  a  far  greater  freedom  than  the  average  Mex- 
ican woman.  Many  of  those  in  the  car  spoke  the 
local  Indian  dialect,  Zapoteca,  but  all  seemed  pos- 
sessed of  fluent  Spanish. 

Yet  how  different  was  all  the  carload  from  what 
we  have  come  to  consider  "  civilized  "  people.  If  the 
aim  of  humanity  is  to  be  happy  in  the  present,  then 

j^  these  languid,  brown  races  are  on  the  right  track. 

^  If  that  aim  is  to  advance,  develop,  and  accomplish, 

they  must  be  classed  with  the  lower  animals. 

For  a  half  hour  before  reaching  Rincon  Antonio, 
we  had  been  winding  with  a  little  brawling  river 
through  a  hilly  gorge  dense-grown  with  vegetation. 
The  town  was  in  the  lull  between  two  revolts.  A  bare 
four  days  before,  a  former  chief  and  his  followers 


wipK 

5^^- 

Bi 

'J 

•H- 

-f  n 

k»i.». 

]  .  ■ 

te     "      -• 

V  > 

K» 

t^% 

W  omen  of  Tehuantepec  in  the  market-place 


On  the  hillside  above  Tehuantepec  are  dwellings  partly  dug  out  of 

the  cliffs 


TROPICAL  MEXICO  2S5 

had  been  taken  by  the  populace  and  shot  behind  the 
water-tank  beside  where  we  paused  at  the  station. 
A  week  later  new  riots  were  to  break  out.  But  to- 
day the  place  was  sunk  in  its  customarj^  languor, 
and  only  a  few  bullet-ridden  walls  and  charred  ruins 
hinted  its  recent  history. 

I  had  pictured  the  Isthmus  of  Tehuantepec  a  flat 
neck  of  land  from  ocean  to  ocean.  But  the  imagina- 
tion is  a  deceitful  guide.  Be^'ond  the  town  of  the 
water-tank  we  wormed  for  miles  through  mountains 
higher  than  the  Berkshires,  resembling  them  indeed 
in  form  and  wealth  of  vegetation,  though  with  a  tropi- 
cal tinge.  The  jungle,  however,  died  out,  and  the 
train  crawled  at  a  snail's  pace,  often  looping  back 
upon  itself,  through  landscapes  in  which  the  organ- 
cactus  was  most  conspicuous.  Even  here  the  great 
chain  known  as  the  Rockies  and  the  Andes,  that 
stretches  from  Alaska  to  Patagonia,  imposes  a  con- 
siderable barrier  between  the  two  seas.  There  was  a 
cosmopolitan  tinge  to  this  region,  and  the  boinas  of 
Basques  mingled  with  the  cast-iron  faces  of  Ameri- 
cans and  sturdy  self-possessed  Negroes  under  broad 
"  Texas  "  hats.  An  hour  beyond  the  hills,  in  a  thick- 
wooded  land,  I  dropped  off  at  the  town  of  Tehuante- 
pec, an  intangible  place  that  I  had  some  difficulty  in 
definitely  locating  in  the  thickening  darkness. 

Here  was  a  new  kind  of  Mexico.  In  many  things, 
besides  the  naked,  brown  waists  of  the  women,  it  car- 
ried the  mind  back  to  Ceylon.     There  were  the  same 


236       TRAMPING  THROUGH  MEXICO 

reed  and  thatched  huts,  almost  all  surrounded  by 
spacious  yards  fenced  by  corn-stalk  walls  through 
which  the  inmates  could  see  easily  but  be  seen  with 
difficulty.  Here,  too,  boys  went  naked  until  the  ap- 
proach of  puberty ;  the  cocoanut  palms,  the  dense 
banana  groves,  even  the  huge  earthen  water-jars  be- 
fore the  houses  recalled  the  charming  isle  of  the 
Singhalese,  and  if  the  people  were  less  kindly  to  the 
stranger  they  were  much  more  joyful  and  full  of 
laughter  than  the  Mexican  of  the  plateau.  In  this 
perhaps  they  had  more  in  common  with  the  Burmese. 
The  men,  often  almost  white  in  color,  wore  few  large 
hats,  never  one  approaching  those  of  the  highlands. 
The  hotter  the  sun,  the  smaller  the  hat,  seems  to  be 
the  rule  in  Mexico.  Here  it  was  hot,  indeed  ;  a  dense, 
thick,  tangible  heat,  that  if  it  did  not  sap  the  strength 
suggested  the  husbanding  of  it. 

A  fiesta  raged  on  the  night  of  my  arrival.  The 
not  too  musical  blare  of  a  band  drew  me  to  a  wide, 
inclined  street  paved  in  sand,  at  the  blind  end  of 
which  were  seated  five  rows  of  women  in  as  many 
gradations,  and  everywhere  shuttled  men  and  boys, 
almost  all  in  white  trousers,  with  a  shirt  of  the  same 
color,  Chinese-fashion,  outside  it,  commonly  barefoot 
with  or  without  sandals.  A  few  even  wore  shoes. 
I  hesitated  to  join  the  throng.  The  subconscious 
expectation  of  getting  a  knife  or  a  bullet  in  the  back 
grows  second  nature  in  Mexico.  Few  foreigners  but 
have  contracted  the  habit  of  stepping  aside  to  let 


TROPICAL  MEXICO  237 

pass  a  man  who  hangs  long  at  their  heels.  The  ap- 
proach of  a  staggering,  talkative  peon  was  alwa3^s  an 
occasion  for  alertness,  and  one  that  came  holding  a 
hand  behind  him  was  an  object  of  undivided  curiosity 
until  the  concealed  member  appeared,  clutching  per- 
haps nothing  more  interesting  than  a  cigar  or  a 
banana.  Mexicans  in  crowds,  mixed  with  liquor  and 
"  religion,"  were  always  worth  attention ;  and  here 
was  just  such  a  mixture,  for  the  fiesta  was  in  honor 
of  the  Virgin,  and  the  libations  that  had  been  poured 
out  in  her  honor  were  generous.  But  the  drink  of 
Tchuantepec,  whatever  it  might  be  —  for  pulque  Is 
unknown  in  the  tropics  —  appeared  to  make  its  de- 
votees merely  gay  and  boisterous.  The  adults  were 
friendly,  even  to  an  American,  and  the  children 
shouted  greetings  to  me  as  "  Seilor  Gringo,"  which 
here  is  merel}^  a  term  of  nationality  and  no  such  op- 
probrious title  as  it  has  grown  to  be  on  the  plateau. 
A  few  rockets  had  suggested  an  incipient  revolu- 
tion while  I  was  at  supper.  Now  the  scene  of  the 
festivities  was  enlivened  by  four  huge  set-pieces  of 
fireworks,  each  with  a  bell-shaped  base  in  which  a  man 
could  ensconce  himself  to  the  waist.  One  in  the  form 
of  a  duck  first  took  to  human  legs  and  capered  about 
the  square  while  Its  network  of  rockets,  pin-wheels, 
sizzlers,  twisters,  cannon-like  explosions,  and  jets  of 
colored  fire  kept  the  multitude  surging  back  and  forth 
some  twenty  minutes,  to  the  accompaniment  of  maud- 
lin laughter  and  the  dancing  and  screaming  of  chil- 


238      TRAMPING  THROUGH  MEXICO 

dren,  while  the  band,  frankly  giving  up  its  vain  at- 
tempts to  produce  music,  gazed  with  all  eyes  and  blew 
an  unattentive,  never-ending  rag-time  of  some  two 
strains.  A  monster  turkey  took  up  the  celebration 
where  the  charred  and  disheveled  duck  left  off,  caper- 
ing itself  into  blazing  and  uproarious  oblivion.  The 
finale  consisted  of  two  gigantic  figures  of  a  man  and 
a  woman,  with  a  marvelous  array  of  all  possible  lights 
and  noises  that  lasted  a  full  half-hour,  while  the  two 
barefoot  wearers  danced  back  and  forth  bowing  and 
careering  to  each  other.  The  aftermath  ran  far  into 
the  night,  and  brought  to  naught  my  plans  to  make 
up  for  the  sleepless  night  before. 

Though  most  of  the  inhabitants  of  Tehuantepec 
live  on  earth  flo.r>rs  in  reed  and  grass  houses,  there 
is  scarcely  a  sign  of  suffering  poverty.  Little  Span- 
ish is  heard  among  them,  although  even  the  children 
seem  quite  able  to  speak  it.  Their  native  Indian 
tongue  differs  from  the  Castilian  even  in  cadence,  so 
that  it  was  easy  to  tell  which  idiom  was  being  spoken 
even  before  the  words  were  heard.  It  is  the  chief 
medium  of  the  swarming  market  in  and  about  the 
black  shadows  of  a  roof  on  legs.  Here  the  frank 
and  self-possessed  women,  in  their  brief  and  simple 
dress,  were  legion.  Footwear  is  unknown  to  them, 
and  the  loose,  two-piece,  disconnected  dress  was  aug- 
mented, if  at  all,  with  a  black  lace  shawl  thrown  over 
the  shoulders  in  the,  to  them,  chilly  mornings.  But 
the  most  remarkable  part  of  the  costume,  of  decora- 


C  ^ 

P  ^ 

0  O 

c-t-  >-« 

"*  1-1 

p  3 

P  ^ 


C    j; 


TROPICAL  MEXICO  Ml 

tive  properties  only,  is  the  head-dress  common  to  a 
large  per  cent,  of  the  women  in  town.  From  the 
back  of  the  otherwise  bare  head  hangs  to  the  waist 
an  intricate  contrivance  of  lace  and  ruffles,  snow- 
white  and  starched  stiff,  the  awful  complications  of 
which  no  mere  male  would  be  able  to  describe  beyond 
the  comprehensive  statement  that  the  ensemble  much 
resembles  a  Comanche  chief  in  full  war  regalia. 
Above  this  they  carry  their  loads  on  their  heads  in 
a  sort  of  gourd  bowl  decorated  with  flowers,  and  walk 
with  a  sturdy  self-sufficiency  that  makes  a  veranda  or 
bridge  quake  under  their  brown-footed  tread.  They 
are  lovers  of  color,  especially  here  where  the  Pacific 
breezes  turn  the  jungle  to  the  eastward  into  a  gaunt, 
sandy,  brown  landscape,  and  such  combinations  as 
soft-red  skirts  and  sea-blue  waists,  or  the  reverse, 
mingle  with  black  shot  through  with  long  perpendicu- 
lar yellow  stripes.  The  striking  beauties  of  many  a 
traveler's  hectic  imagination  were  not  in  evidence. 
But  then,  it  is  nowhere  customary  to  find  a  town's 
best  selling  sapotes  and  fish  in  the  market-place,  and 
at  least  the  attractiveness  ranked  high  compared 
with  a  similar  scene  in  any  part  of  the  world,  while 
cleanliness  was  far  more  popular  than  in  the  high- 
lands to  the  north. 

The  foreigner  in  Mexico  is  often  surprised  at  the 
almost  impossibility  of  getting  the  entree  into  its 
family  life.  American  residents  of  high  position  are 
often  intimate  friends  for  years  of  Mexican  men  in 


242      TRAMPING  THROUGH  MEXICO 

their  cafes  and  male  gatherings,  without  ever  step- 
ping across  their  thresholds.  Much  of  the  seclusion 
of  the  Moor  still  holds,  even  half  a  world  distant 
from  the  land  of  its  origin.  Yet  his  racial  pseudo- 
courtesj  leads  the  Mexican  frequently  to  extend  an 
invitation  which  only  long  experience  teaches  the 
stranger  is  a  mere  meaningless  formality.  On  the 
train  from  Cordoba  I  spent  considerable  time  in  con- 
versation with  a  well-to-do  youth  of  Tehuantepec, 
during  which  I  was  formally  invited  at  least  a  dozen 
times  to  visit  him  at  his  home.  He  failed  to  meet  me 
at  the  rendezvous  set,  but  was  effusive  when  I  ran 
across  him  in  the  evening  round  of  the  plaza: 

"  Ah,  amigo  mi'o.  Muy  bucnas  noches.  Como 
'sta  uste-e-e?  So  delighted!  I  was  grieved  beyond 
measure  to  miss  you.  I  live  in  the  Calle  Rcforma, 
number  83.  There  you  have  your  own  house.  I  am 
going  there  now.  Do  you  not  wish  to  accompany 
me?     I  have  .  .   ." 

"  Yes,  I  should  like  to  look  in  on  you  for  a  few 
moments." 

**  Ah,  I  was  so  sorry  to  miss  you,'*  he  went  on, 
standing  stock  still.  *'  I  must  give  you  my  address 
and  you  must  write  me,  and  I  you." 

There  followed  an  exchange  of  cards  with  great 
formality  and  many  protestations  of  eternal  friend- 
ship;  then  an  effusive  hand-shake  and: 

"  Mil  gracias,  senor.  May  you  have  a  most  pleas- 
ant voyage.     Thanks  again.     So  pleased  to  have  met 


TROPICAL  MEXICO  243 

yon.  Adios.  Maj  you  travel  well.  Hasta  luego. 
Adios.  Que  le  vaya  bicn,"  and  with  a  flip  of  the 
hand  and  a  wriggling  of  the  fingers  he  was  gone. 

That  evening  I  returned  early  to  the  "  Hotel  La 
Perla."  Its  entire  force  was  waiting  for  me.  This 
consisted  of  Juan,  a  cheery,  slight  fellow  in  a  blue 
undersliirt  and  speckled  cotton  trousers  of  uncertain 
age,  who  was  waiter,  chambermaid,  porter,  bath-boy, 
sweeper,  general  swipe,  possibly  cook,  and  in  all  but 
name  proprietor ;  the  nominal  one  being  a  spherical 
native  on  the  down-grade  of  life  who  never  moved 
twice  in  the  same  day  if  it  could  be  avoided,  leaving 
the  establisliment  to  run  itself,  and  accepting  phlcg- 
matically  what  money  it  pleased  Providence  to  send 
him.  The  force  was  delighted  at  the  pleasure  of  hav- 
ing a  guest  to  wait  upon,  and  stood  opposite  me  all 
through  the  meal,  offering  gems  of  assorted  wisdom 
intermingled  with  wide-ranging  questions.  I  called 
for  an  extra  blanket  and  turned  In  soon  after  dark. 
There  reigned  a  delicious  stillness  that  promised 
ample  reparation  for  the  two  nights  past.  Barely 
had  I  drowsed  off,  however,  when  there  Intruded  the 
chattering  of  several  men  In  the  alleyway  and  yard 
directly  outside  my  window.  "  They  '11  soon  be 
gone,"  I  told  myself,  turning  over.  But  I  was  over- 
optimistic.  The  voices  Increased,  those  of  women 
chiming  in.  Louder  and  louder  grew  the  uproar. 
Then  a  banjo-like  instrument  struck  up,  accompany- 
ing the  most  dismally  mournful  male  voice  conceiv- 


M4i      TRAMPING  THROUGH  MEXICO 

able,  wailing  a  monotonous  refrain  of  two  short  lines. 
This  increased  in  volume  until  it  might  be  heard  a 
mile  awaj.  Male  and  female  choruses  joined  in  now 
and  then.  In  the  snatches  between,  the  monotonous 
voice  wailed  on,  mingled  with  laughter  and  frequent 
disputes.  I  rose  at  last  to  peer  out  the  window. 
In  the  yard  were  perhaps  a  half-hundred  natives,  all 
seated  on  the  ground,  some  with  their  backs  against 
the  very  wall  of  my  room,  nearly  all  smoking,  and 
with  many  pots  of  liquor  passing  from  hand  to  hand. 
jNIidnight  struck,  then  one,  then  two ;  and  with  every 
hour  the  riot  increased.  Once  or  twice  I  drifted  into 
a  short  troubled  dream,  to  be  aroused  with  a  start 
by  a  new  burst  of  pandemonium.  Then  gradually 
the  sounds  subsided  almost  entirely.  My  watch 
showed  three  o'clock.  I  turned  over  again,  grateful 
for  the  few  hours  loft  .  .  .  and  in  that  instant,  with- 
out a  breath  of  warning,  there  burst  out  the  supreme 
cataclysm  of  a  band  of  some  twenty  hoarse  and  bat- 
tered pieces  in  an  endless,  unfathomable  noise,  that 
never  once  paused  for  breath  until  daylight  stole  in 
at  the  window. 

At  "  breakfast  "  I  took  Juan  to  task. 

"  Ah,  senor,"  he  smiled,  "  it  is  too  bad.  But  yes- 
terday a  man  died  in  the  house  next  door,  and  his 
friends  have  come  to  celebrate." 

"  And  keep  the  whole  town  awake  all  night  ?  " 

"  Ay,  senor,  it  is  unfortunate  indeed.  But  what 
would  you.''     People  will  die,  you  know." 


A  station  of  the  "Pan-American"  south  of  Tehuantepec 


An  liidi.-iii  1k)\-  of  (luatoniahi  on  liis  \\ay  lionie  from  mark(!t 


TROPICAL  MEXICO  247 

Sleep  is  plainly  not  indigenous  to  the  Isthmus  of 
Tehuantepec. 

From  the  neighboring  town  of  Gamboa  there  runs 
southward  a  railway  known  as  the  "  Pan-American." 
Its  fares  are  high  and  a  freight-train  behind  an 
ancient,  top-heavy  engine  drags  a  single  passenger- 
car  divided  into  two  classes  with  it  on  its  daily  jour- 
ney. The  ticket-agent  had  no  change,  and  did  not 
know  whether  the  end  of  the  line  was  anywhere  near 
Guatemala,  though  he  was  full  of  stories  of  the  dan- 
gers to  travelers  in  that  country.  A  languid,  good- 
natured  crowd  filled  the  car.  We  are  so  accustomed 
to  think  of  lack  of  clothing  as  an  attribute  of  savages 
that  it  was  little  short  of  startling  to  see  a  young 
lady  opposite,  naked  to  the  waist  but  for  a  scanty 
and  transparent  suggestion  of  upper  garment,  read 
the  morning  newspaper  and  write  a  note  with  the 
savoir-faire  of  a  Parisienne  in  her  boudoir.  She  wore 
a  necklace  of  American  five-dollar  gold  pieces,  with  a 
pendant  of  twenties,  the  Goddess  of  Liberty  and  the 
date,  1898,  on  the  visible  side,  and  as  earrings  two 
older  coins  of  $2.50.  Nearly  every  woman  in  the  car 
was  thus  decorated  to  some  extent,  always  with  the 
medallion  side  most  in  evidence,  and  one  could  see  at 
a  glance  exactly  how  much  each  was  worth. 

In  a  long  day's  travel  we  covered  112  miles.  At 
Juchitan  the  passengers  thinned.  Much  of  this 
town  had  recently  been  destroyed  in  the  revolution, 
and   close  to  the  track   stood  a  crowded  cemetery 


248       TRAMPING  THROUGH  MEXICO 

with  hundreds  of  gorged  and  somnolent  zopilotes, 
the  carrion-crow  of  Mexico,  about  it.  The  country 
was  a  blazing  dry  stretch  of  mesquite  and  rare 
patches  of  forest  in  a  sandy  soil,  with  huts  so  few  that 
the  train  halted  at  each  of  them,  as  if  to  catch  its 
breath  and  wipe  the  sweat  out  of  its  eyes.  Once, 
toward  noon,  we  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  Pacific. 
But  all  the  day  there  spread  on  either  hand  an  arid 
region  with  bare  rocky  hills,  a  fine  sand  that  drifted 
in  the  air,  and  little  vegetation  except  the  thorny 
mesquite.  A  few  herds  of  cattle  were  seen,  but  they 
were  as  rare  as  the  small  towns  of  stone  huts  and 
frontiers-man  aspect.  The  train  passed  the  after- 
noon like  a  walker  who  knows  he  can  easily  reach  his 
night's  destination,  and  strolled  leisurely  into  To: 
nola  before  sunset. 

Beyond  the  wild-west  hotel  lay  a  sweltering  sand 
town  of  a  few  streets  atrociously  cobbled.  We  had 
reached  the  land  of  hammocks.  Not  a  hut  did  I 
peep  into  that  did  not  have  three  or  four  swinging 
lazily  above  the  uneven  earth  floor.  In  the  center 
of  the  broad,  unkempt  expanse  that  served  as  plaza 
stood  an  enormous  pocJiote,  a  species  of  cottonwood 
tree,  and  about  it  drowsed  a  Sunday  evening  gather- 
ing half  seen  in  the  dim  light  of  lanterns  on  the  stands 
of  hawkers.  On  a  dark  corner  three  men  and  a  boy 
were  playing  a  marimba,  a  frame  with  dried  bars  of 
wood  as  keys  which,  beaten  with  small  wooden  mal- 
lets,  gave    off   a   weird,    half-mournful    music    that 


TROPICAL  ]\IEXIC0  24^ 

floated  slowlj  awaj  into  the  heavy  hot  night.  The 
women  seemed  physically  the  equal  of  those  of  Te- 
huantcpcc,  but  their  dress  was  quite  different,  a 
single  loose  white  gown  cut  very  low  at  the  neck  and 
almost  without  sleeves.  One  with  a  white  towel  on 
her  head  and  hanging  loosely  about  her  shoulders 
looked  startlingly  like  an  Egyptian  female  figure  that 
had  stepped  forth  from  the  monuments  of  the  Nile. 
Their  brown  skins  were  lustrous  as  silk,  every  line 
of  their  lithe  bodies  of  a  Yenus-like  development  and 
they  stood  erect  as  palm-trees,  or  slipped  by  in  the 
sand-paved  night  under  their  four-gallon  American 
oilcans  of  water  with  a  silent,  sylph-like  tread. 

The  train,  like  an  experienced  tropical  traveler, 
started  at  the  first  peep  of  dawn.  Tonola  marked 
the  beginning  of  a  new  style  of  landscape,  heralding 
the  woodlands  of  Guatemala.  All  was  now  dense  and 
richly  green,  not  exactly  jungle,  but  with  forests  of 
huge  trees,  draped  with  climbing  vines,  interlarded 
with  vistas  of  fat  cattle  by  the  hundreds  up  to  their 
bellies  in  heavy  green  grass,  herds  of  which  now  and 
then  brought  us  almost  to  a  standstill  by  stampeding 
across  the  track.  In  contrast  to  the  day  before 
there  were  many  villages,  a  kind  of  cross  between  the 
jungle  towns  of  Siam  and  the  sandy  hamlets  of  our 
"  Wild  West."  A  number  had  sawmills  for  the  ma- 
hogany said  to  abound  in  the  region.  Now  and  then 
a  prettj'  lake  alive  with  wild  fowl  appeared  in  a  frame 
of  green.     There  were  many  Negroes,  and  not  a  few 


250      TRAMPING  THROUGH  MEXICO 

Americans  among  the  ranchers,  sawmill  hands  and 
railway  employees,  while  John  Chinaman,  forbidden 
entrance  to  the  country  to  the  south,  as  to  that  north 
of  the  Rio  Grande,  put  in  a  frequent  appearance,  as 
in  all  Mexico.  It  was  a  languorous,  easy-going 
land,  where  day-before-yesterday's  paper  was  news. 
The  sulky  stare  of  the  Mexican  plateau  had  com- 
pletely disappeared,  and  in  its  place  was  much 
laughter  and  an  unobtrusive  friendliness,  and  a  com- 
plete lack  of  obsequiousness  even  on  the  part  of  the 
peons,  who  elbowed  their  way  in  and  out  among  all 
classes  as  if  there  were  no  question  as  to  the  equality 
of  all  mankind.  The  daily  arrival  of  the  train 
seemed  to  be  the  chief  recreation  of  the  populace,  so 
that  there  were  signs  of  protest  if  it  made  only  a 
brief  stop.  But  there  was  seldom  cause  for  this 
complaint,  for  the  swollen-headed  old  engine  was  still 
capable  of  so  much  more  than  the  schedule  required 
that  it  was  forced  to  make  a  prolonged  stay  at  almost 
every  station  to  let  Father  Time  catch  up  with  us. 

The  rumor  ran  that  those  who  would  enter  Guate- 
mala must  get  permission  of  its  consul  in  Tapachula. 
But  our  own  representative  at  that  town  chanced  to 
board  the  train  at  a  wayside  hamlet  and  found  the 
papers  I  carried  sufficient.  Two  fellow  countrymen 
raced  away  into  the  place  as  the  train  drew  in,  and 
returned  drenched  with  sweat  in  time  to  continue  with 
our  leisurely  convoy.  Dakin  was  a  boyish  man  from 
the  Northern  States,  and  Ems  a  swarthy  "  Texican  " 


TROPICAL  MEXICO  251 

to  whom  Spar,  sh  was  more  native  than  English,  both 
wandering  southward  in  quest  of  jobs,  as  stationary 
and  locomotive  engineers  respectively.  They  rode 
first-class,  though  this  did  not  imply  wealth,  but 
merely  that  Pat  Cassidy  was  conductor.  He  was  a 
burly,  whole-hearted  American,  supporting  an  enor- 
mous, flaring  mustache  and,  by  his  own  admission, 
all  the  "  busted  "  white  men  traveling  between  Mexico 
and  Guatemala.  While  I  kept  the  seat  to  which  my 
ticket  entitled  me,  he  passed  me  with  a  look  of  curi- 
osity not  unmixed  with  a  hint  of  scorn.  When  I 
stepped  into  the  upholstered  class  to  ask  him  a  ques- 
tion he  bellowed,  "  Si'  down !  "  The  inquiry  an- 
swered, I  rose  to  leave,  only  to  be  brought  down  again 
with  a  shout  of,  "  Keep  yer  seat !  "  It  is  no  fault  of 
Cassidy's  if  a  "  gringo  "  covers  the  Pan-American  on 
foot  or  seated  with  peons,  or  goes  hungry  and  thirsty 
or  tobaccoless  on  the  journey;  and  penniless  stran- 
gers are  not  conspicuous  by  their  absence  along  this 
route.  As  a  Virginia  Negro  at  one  of  the  stations 
put  it  succinctly,  "  If  dey  ain't  black,  dey  'se  white." 
A  jungle  bewilderment  of  vegetation  grew  up  about 
us,  with  rich  clearings  for  little  clusters  of  palm- 
leaf  huts,  jungles  so  dense  the  eye  could  not  penetrate 
them.  Laughing  women,  often  of  strikingly  attrac- 
tive features,  peopled  every  station,  perfect  in  form 
as  a  Greek  statue,  and  with  complexions  of  burnished 
bronze.  Everywhere  was  evidence  of  a  constant 
joy  In  life  and  of  a  placid  conviction  that  Providence 


252      TRAMPING  THROUGH  MEXICO 

or  some  other  phllanthopist  who  had  always  taken 
care  of  them  always  would.  Teeth  were  not  so  uni- 
versally splendid  as  on  the  plateau,  but  the  luminous, 
snapping  black  eyes  more  than  made  up  for  this  less 
perfect  feature. 

Nightfall  found  us  still  rumbling  lazily  on  and  it 
was  nearly  an  hour  later  that  we  reached  Mariscal 
at  the  end  of  the  line,  four  or  five  scattered  buildings 
of  which  two  disguised  themselves  under  the  name  of 
hotels.  Ems  and  I  slept  —  or  more  exactly  passed 
the  night  —  on  cots  in  one  of  the  rooms  of  trans- 
parent partitions,  while  Dakin,  who  refused  to  accept 
alms  for  anything  so  useless,  spread  a  grass  mat 
among  the  dozen  native  women  stretched  out  along 
the  veranda. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

HUEEYING    THEOUGH    GUATEMALA 

THE  three  of  us  were  off  by  the  time  the  day 
had  definitely  dawned.  Ems  carried  a  heavy 
suitcase,  and  Dakin  an  awkward  bundle.  My  own 
modest  belongings  rode  more  easily  in  a  rucksack. 
A  mile  walk  along  an  unused  railroad,  calf-high  in 
jungle  grass,  brought  us  to  a  wooden  bridge  across 
the  wide  but  shallow  Suchiate,  bounding  Mexico  on 
the  south.  Across  its  plank  floor  and  beyond  ran  the 
rails  of  the  "  Pan-American,"  but  the  trains  halt  at 
Mariscal  because  Guatemala,  or  more  exactly  Es- 
trada Cabrera,  does  not  permit  them  to  enter  his 
great  and  sovereign  republic.  Our  own  passage 
looked  easy,  but  that  was  because  of  our  inexperience 
of  Central  American  ways.  Scarcely  had  we  set  foot 
on  the  bridge  when  there  came  racing  out  of  a  palm- 
leaf  hut  on  the  opposite  shore  three  male  ragamuffins 
in  bare  feet,  shouting  as  they  ran.  One  carried  an 
antedeluvian,  muzzle-loading  musket,  another  an 
ancient  bayonet  red  with  rust,  and  the  third  swung 
threateningly  what  I  took  to  be  a  stiff  piece  of  tele- 
graph wire. 

"  No   se   pasa ! "   screamed   the   three   in   chorus, 
253 


254      TRAMPING  THROUGH  GUATEMALA 

spreading  out  in  skirmish  line  like  an  army  ready  to 
oppose  to  the  death  the  invasion  of  a  hostile  force. 
"  No  one  can  pass  the  bridge  !  " 

"But  why  not?"  I  asked. 

"  Because  Guatemala  does  not  allow  it." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  three  caballeros  with  money 
and  passports  —  and  shoes  are  denied  admittance  to 
the  great  and  famous  Republic  of  Guatemala?" 

"  Not  at  all,  senor,  but  you  must  come  by  boat. 
The  Pope  himself  cannot  cross  this  bridge." 

It  would  have  been  unkind  to  throw  them  into  the 
river,  so  we  returned  to  a  cluster  of  huts  on  the  Mexi- 
can bank.  Before  it  drowsed  a  half-dozen  ancient 
and  leaky  boats.  But  here  again  were  grave  inter- 
national formalities  to  be  arranged.  A  Mexican  offi- 
cial led  us  into  one  of  the  huts  and  set  down  labor- 
iously in  a  ledger  our  names,  professions,  bachelor- 
doms,  and  a  mass  of  even  more  personal  information. 

"  You  are  Catholic,  senor,"  he  queried  with  poised 
pen,  eying  me  suspiciously. 

"  No,  senor." 

"  Ah,  Protestant,"  he  observed,  starting  to  set 
down  that  conclusion. 

"  Tampoco." 

There  came  a  hitch  in  proceedings.  Plainly  there 
was  no  precedent  to  follow  in  considering  the  applica- 
tion of  so  non-existent  a  being  for  permission  to  leave 
Mexico.  The  official  smoked  a  cigarette  pensively 
and  idly  turned  over  the  leaves  of  the  ledger. 


Three  "gringoes"  on  the  tramp  from  the  Mexifau  boundary  to  the 
railway  of  Guatemala 


Inside  the  race-track  at  Guatemala  City  is  a  rehef  map  of  the  entire 

country 


HURRYING  THROUGH  GUATEMALA  257 

"  Sera  ateo,"  said  a  man  behind  him,  swelling  his 
chest  with  pride  at  his  extraordinary  intelligence. 

"  That  does  n't  fill  the  bill  either,"  I  replied,  "  nor 
any  other  single  word  I  can  think  of." 

But  the  space  for  this  particular  item  of  informa- 
tion was  cramped.  We  finally  compromised  on  "  Sin 
religi6n,"  and  I  was  allowed  to  leave  the  country. 
A  boatman  tugged  and  poled  some  twenty  minutes 
before  we  could  scramble  up  the  steep,  jungle-grown 
bank  beyond.  At  the  top  of  it  were  scattered  a  dozen 
childish  looking  soldiers  in  the  most  unkempt  and  di- 
sheveled array  of  rags  and  lack  thereof  a  cartoonist 
could  picture.  They  formed  in  a  hollow  square 
about  us  and  steered  us  toward  the  "  comandancia," 
a  few  yards  beyond.  This  was  a  thatched  mud  hut 
with  a  lame  bench  and  a  row  of  aged  muskets  in  the 
shade  along  its  wall.  Another  bundle  of  rags 
emerged  in  his  most  pompous,  authoritative  de- 
meanor, and  ordered  us  to  open  our  baggage. 
Merely  by  accident  I  turned  my  rucksack  face  down 
on  the  bench,  so  there  is  no  means  of  knowing  whether 
the  kodak  and  weapon  in  the  front  pockets  of  it 
would  have  been  confiscated  or  held  for  ransom,  had 
they  been  seen.  I  should  be  inclined  to  answer  in  the 
affirmative.  In  the  hut  our  passports  were  carefully 
if  unintelligently  examined,  and  we  were  again  fully 
catalogued.  Estrada  Cabrera  follows  with  great 
precision  the  movements  of  foreigners  within  his 
boundaries. 


258     TRAMPING  THROUGH  GUATEMALA 

In  the  sandy  jungle  town  of  Ayutla  just  beyond, 
two  of  us  multiplied  our  wealth  many  times  over  with- 
out the  least  exertion.  That  Dakin  did  not  also 
was  only  due  to  the  unavoidable  fact  that  he  had  no 
multiplicand  to  set  over  the  multiplier.  I  threw 
down  Mexican  money  to  the  value  of  $8.30  and  had 
thrust  upon  me  a  massive  roll  of  $150.  The  only 
drawback  was  that  the  bills  had  led  so  long  and  mal- 
treated a  life  that  their  face  value  had  to  be  accepted 
chiefly  on  faith,  for  a  ten  differed  from  a  one  only  as 
one  Guatemalan  soldier  differs  from  his  fellow^s,  in 
that  each  was  much  more  tattered  and  torn  than  the 
other.  After  all  there  is  a  delicate  courtesy  in  a 
government's  supplying  an  illiterate  population  with 
illegible  money ;  no  doubt  experience  knows  other 
distinguisliing  marks,  such  as  the  particular  breeds 
of  microbes  that  is  accustomed  to  inhabit  each  de- 
nomination ;  for  even  inexperience  could  easily  recog- 
nize that  each  was  so  infested.  I  mistake  in  saying 
this  was  the  only  drawback.  There  was  another. 
The  wanderer  who  drops  into  a  hut  for  a  banana  and 
a  bone-dry  biscuit,  washed  down  with  a  small  bottle 
of  luke-warm  fizzling  water,  hears  with  a  pang  akin  to 
heart-failure  a  languid  murmur  of  "  Four  dollars, 
sefior,"  in  answer  to  his  request  for  the  bill.  It  is  not 
easy  to  get  accustomed  to  hearing  such  sums  men- 
tioned in  so  casual  a  manner. 

A  little  narrow-gage  "  railway  "  crawls  off  through 
the  jungle  beyond  Ayutla,  but  the  train  ran  on  it 


HURRYING  THROUGH  GUATEMALA   259 

yesterday  and  to-morrow.  To-day  there  was  noth- 
ing to  do  but  swing  on  our  loads  and  strike  off  south- 
ward. The  morning  air  was  fresh  and  the  eastern 
jungle  wall  threw  heavy  shade  for  a  time.  But  that 
time  soon  came  to  an  end  and  I  plodded  on  under  a 
sun  that  multiplied  the  load  on  my  back  by  at  least 
the  monetarj'  multiple  of  Guatemala.  Ems  and 
Dakin  quickly  demonstrated  a  deep  dislike  to  tropical 
tramping,  though  both  laid  claim  to  the  degree  of 
T.  T.  T.  conferred  on  "  gringo  "  rovers  in  Central 
America.  I  waited  for  them  several  times  in  vain  and 
finally  pushed  on  to  the  sweltering,  heat-pulsating 
town  of  Pahapeeta,  where  every  hut  sold  bottled  fire- 
water and  a  diminutive  box  of  matches  cost  a  dollar. 
Grass  huts  tucked  away  in  dense  groves  along  the 
route  were  inhabited  by  all  but  naked  brown  people, 
kindly  disposed,  so  it  required  no  exertion,  to  a  pass- 
ing stranger.  Before  noon  the  jungle  opened  out 
upon  an  ankle-deep  sea  of  sand,  across  which  I  plowed 
under  a  blazing  sun  that  set  even  the  bundle  on  my 
back  dripping  with  sweat. 

But  at  least  there  was  a  broad  river  on  the  farther 
side  of  it  that  looked  inviting  enough  to  reward  a 
whole  day  of  tramping.  The  place  was  called  Vado 
Ancho  —  the  "  Wide  Wade  " ;  though  that  was  no 
longer  necessary,  for  the  toy  railroad  that  operated 
to-morrow  and  yesterday  had  brought  a  bridge  with 
it.  I  scrambled  ray  way  along  the  dense-grown 
farther  bank,  and  found  a  place  to  descend  to  a  big 


260      TRAMPING  THROUGH  GUATEMALA 

shady  rock  just  fitted  for  a  siesta  after  a  swim. 
Barely  had  I  begun  to  undress,  however,  when  three 
brown  and  barefoot  grown-up  male  children,  partly 
concealed  in  astounding  collections  of  rags,  two  with 
ancient  muskets  and  the  third  with  a  stiff  piece  of 
wire,  tore  through  the  bushes  and  surrounded  me 
with  menacing  attitudes. 

"  What  are  you  doing  here?  "  cried  the  least  naked. 

"  Why  the  idle  curiosity  ?  " 

"  You  are  ordered  to  come  to  the  comandancia." 

I  scrambled  back  up  the  bank  and  plodded  across 
another  sand  patch  toward  a  small  collection  of 
jungle  huts,  the  three  "  soldiers "  crowding  close 
about  me  and  wearing  the  air  of  brave  heroes  who  had 
saved  their  country  from  a  great  conspiracy.  Lazy 
natives  lay  grinning  in  the  shade  as  I  passed.  One 
of  the  lop-shouldered,  thatched  huts  stood  on  a  hil- 
lock above  the  rest.  When  we  had  sweated  up  to 
this,  a  military  order  rang  out  in  a  cracked  treble  and 
some  twenty  brown  scarecrows  lined  up  in  the  shade 
of  the  eaves  in  a  Guatemalan  idea  of  order.  About 
half  of  them  held  what  had  once  been  muskets ;  the 
others  were  armed  with  what  I  had  hitherto  taken  for 
lengths  of  pilfered  telegraph  wire,  but  which  now  on 
closer  inspection  proved  to  be  ramrods.  Thus  each 
arm  made  only  two  armed  men,  whereas  a  bit  of  in- 
genuity might  have  made  each  serve  three  or  four ; 
by  dividing  the  stocks  and  barrels,  for  instance. 
The  tatterdemalion  of  the  treble  fiercely  demanded 


Oue  of  the  jungle-hidden  ruins  of  Quiragua 


'J  lie  last  house  in  Guatemala,  near  ihc  boundary  of  Honduras 


HURRYING  THROUGH  GUATEMALA   263 

my  passport,  while  the  "  army  "  quickly  degenerated 
into  a  ragged  rabble  loafing  in  the  shade. 

I  started  to  lay  my  rucksack  on  the  bench  along 
the  wall,  but  one  of  the  fellows  sprang  up  with  a  snarl 
and  flourished  his  ramrod  threateningly.  It  was  evi- 
dently a  Use  militarismus  worthy  of  capital  punish- 
ment for  a  civilian  to  pass  between  a  pole  supporting 
the  eaves  and  the  mud  wall  of  the  building.  I  was 
forced  to  stand  in  the  blazing  sunshine  and  claw  out 
my  papers.  They  were  in  English,  but  the  carica- 
ture of  an  officer  concealed  his  ignorance  before  his 
fellows  by  pretending  to  read  them  and  at  length 
gave  me  a  surly  permission  to  withdraw.  No  wonder 
Central  America  is  a  favorite  locale  for  comic  opera 
librettos. 

I  descended  again  to  the  river  for  a  sAvim,  but  had 
not  yet  stretched  out  for  a  siesta  when  there  came 
pushing  through  the  undergrowth  thi'ee  more  "  sol- 
diers," this  time  all  armed  with  muskets. 

"What's  up  now.?" 

"  The  colonel  wants  to  see  you  in  the  comandan- 
cia." 

"  But  I  just  saw  your  famous  colonel." 

*'  No,  that  was  only  the  teniente." 

When  I  reached  the  hilltop  again,  dripping  with 
the  heat  of  noonday,  I  was  permitted  to  sit  on  an 
adobe  brick  in  the  sacred  shade.  The  colonel  was 
sleeping.  He  recovered  from  that  tropical  ailment 
in  time,  and  a  rumor  came  floating  out  that  he  was 


26i      TRAMPING  THROUGH  GUATEMALA 

soon  to  honor  us  with  his  distinguished  presence. 
The  soldiers  made  frantic  signs  to  me  to  rise  to  my 
feet.  Like  Kingslake  before  the  Turkish  pasha,  I 
felt  that  the  honor  of  my  race  and  my  own  haughty 
dignity  were  better  served  by  insisting  on  social 
equality  even  to  a  colonel,  and  stuck  doggedly  to  the 
adobe  brick.  The  rumor  proved  a  false  alarm  an}^- 
way.  No  doubt  the  great  man  had  turned  over  in  his 
sleep. 

By  and  by  the  lieutenant  came  to  say  the  com- 
mander was  in  his  office,  and  led  the  way  there.  At 
the  second  door  of  the  mud-and-straw  building  he 
paused  to  add  in  an  awe-struck  whisper: 

"  Take  off  your  hat  and  wait  until  he  calls  you  in." 

Instead  I  stepped  toward  the  entrance,  but  the 
teniente  snatched  at  the  slack  of  my  shirt  with  a 
gasp  of  terror: 

"  For  Dios !  Take  off  your  revolver !  If  the 
colonel  sees  it  .  .  ." 

I  shook  him  off  and,  marching  in  with  martial 
stride  and  a  haughty  carelessness  of  attitude,  sat 
down  in  the  only  chair  in  the  room  except  that  occu- 
pied by  the  commander,  with  a  hearty : 

"  Buenas  tardes,  colonel." 

He  was  a  typical  guatcmalteco  in  whole  trousers 
and  an  open  shirt,  but  of  some  education,  for  he  was 
writing  with  moderate  rapidity  at  his  homemade  desk. 
He  also  wore  shoes.  His  manner  was  far  more  rea- 
sonable than  that  of  his  illiterate  underlings,  and  we 


HURRYING  THROUGH  GUATEMALA   265 

were  soon  conversing  rationally.  He  appeared  to 
know  enough  English  to  get  the  gist  of  my  passport, 
but  handed  it  back  with  the  information  that  I 
should  have  official  Guatemalan  permission  to  exist 
within  the  confines  of  his  eighteen-for-a-dollar  coun- 
try. 

"  You  carry  an  apparatus  for  the  making  of 
photographs,"  he  went  on.  "  Suppose  you  had  taken 
a  picture  of  our  fortress  and  garrison  here?  " 

"Gar—     How's  that,  Senor?" 

"  It  is  the  law  of  all  countries,  as  you  know,  not 
to  allow  the  photographing  of  places  of  military  im- 
portance. Even  the  English  would  arrest  you  if 
you  took  a  picture  of  Gibraltar." 

It  was  careless  of  me  not  to  have  noted  the  striking 
similarity  of  this  stronghold  to  that  at  the  entrance 
to  the  Mediterranean.     Both  stand  on  hills. 

"  And  where  do  I  get  this  ofiicial  permission  ?  " 

"  Impossible." 

"  Yet   necessary?  " 

But  I  still  carried  Mexican  cigarettes,  a  luxury  in 
Guatemala,  so  we  parted  friends,  with  the  manners 
of  a  special  envoy  taking  leave  of  a  prime  minister. 
The  only  requirement  was  that  I  should  not  open  my 
kodak  within  sight  of  this  hotbed  of  military  im- 
portance. I  all  but  made  the  fatal  error  of  passing 
between  the  sacred  eavc-post  and  the  wall  upon  my 
exit,  but  sidestepped  in  time  to  escape  unscathed, 
and  left   the  great   fortress   behind  and   above   me. 


^66      TRAMPING  THROUGH  GUATEMALA 

After  all  I  had  been  far  more  fortunate  than  a  fel- 
low countryman  I  met  later,  who  had  had  a  $200 
camera  smashed  by  this  same  ragged  "  garrison." 

Siesta  time  was  past  and  I  struck  on  out  of  town. 
In  the  last  hut  an  old  woman  called  out  to  know  why 
I  had  gone  down  to  the  river,  and  showed  some  sus- 
picion at  my  answer. 

"  There  are  so  many  countries  trying  to  get  our 
war  plans,"  she  explained. 

A  trail  wide  enough  for  single- wheeled  vehicles 
crowded  its  way  between  jungle  walls.  In  the  breath- 
less, blazing  sunshine  the  sweat  passed  through  my 
rucksack  and  into  my  formal  city  garments  beyond, 
carrying  the  color  of  the  sack  with  it.  For  some 
time  no  one  was  abroad  except  a  dripping  "  gringo  " 
and  a  rare  cargador  in  barely  the  rags  necessary  to 
escape  complete  nakedness,  who  greeted  me  subservi- 
ently and  gave  me  most  of  the  road.  The  Indians  of 
the  region  were  inferior  in  physique  to  those  of  the 
Mexican  plateau,  ragged  beyond  words,  and  far  from 
handsome  in  appearance.  Their  little  thatched  huts 
swarmed,  however,  and  almost  all  displayed  some- 
thing to  sell,  chiefly  strong  native  liquor  in  bottles 
that  had  seen  long  and  varied  service.  There  was 
nothing  to  eat  but  oranges  green  in  color.  The  way 
was  often  strewn  with  hundreds  of  huge  orange- 
colored  ones,  but  they  were  more  sour  than  lemons 
and  often  bitter.  A  tropical  downpour  drove  me 
once  into  the  not  too  effective  shelter  of  the  jungle. 


A  woman  shelling  corn  for  my  first  meal  in  Honduras 


A  vista  of  Honduras  from  a  hillside,  to  whicii  1  climlxNl  after  losing 

the  trail 


HURRYING  THROUGH  GUATEMALA   269 

and  with  sunset  a  drizzle  set  in  with  a  promise  of  in- 
crease. A  woodchopper  had  told  me  I  could  not 
reach  my  proposed  destination  that  night,  but  I 
pressed  forward  at  my  best  pace  up  hill  and  down 
through  an  all  but  continuous  vegetation  and  sur- 
prised myself  by  stumbling  soon  after  dark  upon 
electric-lighted  Coatcpeque,  the  first  real  town  of 
Guatemala,  and  not  a  very  real  one  at  that. 

However,  a  burly  American  ran  a  hotel  where  the 
bill  for  supper  and  lodging  was  only  $15,  and  if  the 
partitions  of  my  room  were  bare  they  were  of  ma- 
hogany, as  were  also  the  springs  of  the  bed.  The 
pilfering  of  an  extra  mattress  softened  this  misfor- 
tune somewhat,  and  toward  morning  it  grew  cool 
enough  to  stop  sweating.  When  I  descended  in  the 
morning,  Ems  and  Dakin  were  sitting  over  their  cof- 
fee and  eggs.  They  had  paid  $5  each  to  ride  in  a 
covered  bullock  cart  from  Vado  Ancho  —  and  be 
churned  to  a  pulp. 

Reunited,  we  pushed  on  in  the  morning  shadows. 
Ems  and  Dakin  divided  the  weight  of  the  former's 
suitcase ;  but  even  after  the  "  Tcxican  "  had  thrown 
away  two  heavy  books  on  locomotive  driving,  both 
groaned  under  their  loads.  The  sun  of  Guatemala 
does  not  lighten  the  burdens  of  the  trail.  Ems  had 
boarded  the  bullock  cart  the  proud  possessor  of  a 
bar  of  soap,  but  this  morning  he  found  it  a  powder 
and  sprinkled  it  along  the  way.  Soap  is  out  of  keep- 
ing  with   Guatemalan   local   color   anj'way.     Dense 


270      TRAMPING  THROUGH  GUATEMALA 

forests  continued,  but  here  almost  all  had  an  under- 
growth of  coffee  bushes.  Some  of  the  largest  coffee 
■fincas  of  Guatemala  lie  along  this  road,  producing 
annually  to  hundreds  of  thousands  in  gold.  Such 
prosperity  was  not  reflected  in  the  population  and 
toilers.  The  natives  were  ragged,  but  friendly,  every 
man  carrying  a  machete,  generally  in  a  leather  scab- 
bard, and  the  women  almost  without  exception  enor- 
mous loads  of  fruit.  They  were  weak,  unintelligent, 
pimple-faced  mortals,  speaking  an  Indian  dialect  and 
using  Spanish  only  with  difficulty.  Ragged  Indian 
girls  were  picking  coffee  here  and  there,  even  more 
tattered  carriers  lugged  it  in  sacks  and  baskets  to 
large,  cement-floored  spaces  near  the  estate  houses, 
where  men  shoveled  the  red  berries  over  and  over 
in  the  sun  and  old  women  hulled  them  in  the  shade  of 
their  huts. 

Jungle  trees,  often  immense  and  polished  smooth 
as  if  they  had  been  flayed  of  their  bark,  gave  us 
dense  cool  shade,  scented  by  countless  wild  flowers. 
But  en  cambio  the  soft  dirt  road  climbed  and  wound 
and  descended  all  but  incessantly,  gradually  work- 
ing its  way  higher,  until  we  could  look  out  now  and 
then  over  hundreds  of  square  miles  of  hot  country 
with  barely  a  break  in  all  its  expanse  of  dense,  steam- 
ing vegetation.  Coffee  continued,  but  alternated 
now  with  the  slender  trees  of  rubber  plantations,  with 
their  long  smooth  leaves,  and  already  scarred  like 
young  warriors  long  inured  to  battle.     The  road  was 


HURRYING  THROUGH  GUATEMALA   271 

really  only  an  enlarged  trail,  not  laid  out,  but  follow- 
ing the  route  of  the  first  Indian  who  picked  his  way 
over  these  jungled  hills.  Huts  were  seldom  lacking; 
poor,  ragged,  cheerful  Indians  never.  In  the  after- 
noon the  trail  pitched  headlong  down  and  around 
through  a  rock-spilled  barranco  with  two  sheer  walls 
of  the  densest  jungle  and  forest  shutting  it  in. 
Where  it  crossed  a  stream,  Dakin  and  I  found  a 
shaded,  sandy  hollow  scooped  out  behind  a  broad 
flat  rock  in  the  form  of  a  huge  bathtub  of  water, 
clearer  than  any  adjective  m^II  describe.  Ems,  whose 
swarthy  tint  and  strong  features  suggested  the  op- 
posite, was  the  least  able  to  endure  the  hardships  of 
the  road,  and  lay  lifeless  in  the  shade  at  every  op- 
portunity. 

The  road  panted  by  a  rocky  zigzag  up  out  of  the 
ravine  again  and  on  over  rough  and  hilly  going. 
Here  I  fell  into  conversation  with  an  Indian  finca 
laborer,  a  slow,  patient,  ox-like  fellow,  to  whom  it 
had  plainly  never  occurred  to  ask  himself  why  he 
should  live  in  misery  and  his  employers  in  luxury. 
He  spoke  a  slow  and  labored,  yet  considerable,  Span- 
ish, of  which  he  was  unable  to  pronounce  the  f  or  v ; 
saying  "  pinca "  for  finca  and  ''  pale "  for  vale. 
Those  of  his  class  worked  from  five  to  five  shoveling 
coflPee  or  carrying  it,  with  two  hours  off  for  break- 
fast and  almuerzo,  were  paid  one  Guatemalan  dollar 
a  day,  that  is,  a  fraction  over  five  cents  in  our  money, 
and   furnished  two  arrobas   (fifty  pounds)    of  corn 


272      TRAMPING  THROUGH  GUATEMALA 

and  frijoles  and  a  half-pound  of  salt  a  month.  Yet 
there  are  no  more  trustworthy  employees  than  these 
underpaid  fellows.  As  pay-day  approaches,  one  of 
these  same  ragged  Indians  is  given  a  grain  sack  and 
a  check  for  several  thousand  dollars  gold  and  sent  to 
the  town  where  the  finca  owner  does  his  banking, 
often  several  days'  distant.  The  sack  half  filled  with 
the  ragged  bills  of  the  Republic  and  their  customary 
microbes,  the  Indian  shoulders  it  and  tramps  back 
across  the  country  to  the  estate,  stopping  at  night  in 
some  waj'side  hut  and  tossing  the  sack  into  a  corner, 
perhaps  to  leave  it  for  hours  while  he  visits  his 
friends  in  the  vicinity.  Yet  though  both  the  mes- 
senger and  his  hosts  know  the  contents  of  his  bundle, 
it  is  very  rare  that  a  single  illegible  billete  disappears 
en  route. 

We  plodded  on  into  the  night,  but  Ems  could  only 
drag  at  a  turtle-pace,  and  it  became  evident  we  could 
not  make  Retalhuleu  without  giving  him  time  to  re- 
cuperate. The  first  large  hut  in  the  scattered  vil- 
lage of  Acintral  gave  us  hospitality.  It  was  earth- 
floored,  with  a  few  homemade  chairs,  and  a  bed  with 
board  floor.  Though  barely  four  feet  wide,  this  was 
suggested  as  the  resting-place  of  all  three  of  us  after 
a  supper  of  jet-black  coffee,  native  bread,  and  cheese. 
Dakin  and  I  found  it  more  than  crowded,  even  after 
Ems  had  spread  a  petate,  or  grass-mat,  on  the 
ground.  The  room  had  no  door,  and  women  and 
girls  wandered  indifferently  in  and  out  of  it  as  we 


HURRYING  THROUGH  GUATEMALA  273 

undressed,  one  mite  of  barely  six  smoking  a  huge 
black  cigar  in  the  most  business-like  manner.  The 
place  was  a  species  of  saloon,  like  almost  every  hut 
along  the  road,  and  the  shouting  of  the  family  and 
their  thirsty  townsmen  seldom  ceased  even  momen- 
tarily until  after  midnight. 

Having  occasion  to  be  in  Guatemala  City  that  day, 
I  rose  at  two  and,  swallowing  a  cup  of  black  coffee 
and  two  raw  eggs  and  paying  a  bill  of  $12,  struck 
out  to  cover  the  two  long  leagues  left  to  Retalhuleu 
in  time  to  catch  the  six-o'clock  train.  The  moon 
on  its  waning  quarter  had  just  risen,  but  gave  little 
assistance  during  an  extremely  difficult  tramp.  All 
was  blackest  darkness  except  where  it  cast  a  few 
silvery  streaks  through  the  trees,  the  road  a  mere 
wild  trail  left  by  the  rainy  season  far  rougher  than 
any  plowed  field,  where  it  would  have  been  only  too 
easy  to  break  a  leg  or  sprain  an  ankle.  Bands  of 
dogs,  barking  savagely,  dashed  out  upon  me  from 
almost  every  hut.  Besides  four  small  rivers  with 
little  roofed  bridges,  there  were  many  narrower 
streams  or  mud-holes  to  wade,  and  between  them  the 
way  twisted  and  stumbled  up  and  down  over  innumer- 
able hills  that  seemed  mountains  in  the  unfathomable 
darkness.  When  I  had  slipped  and  sprawled  some 
two  hours,  a  pair  of  Indians,  the  first  to  be  found 
abroad,  gave  the  distance  as  "  dos  leguas,"  in  other 
words,  the  same  as  when  I  had  started.  I  redoubled 
my  speed,  pausing  only  once  to  call  for  water  where  a 


2T:fc      TRAMPING  THROUGH  GUATEMALA 

light  flickered  in  a  hut,  and  seemed  to  have  won  the 
race  when  at  the  edge  of  the  town  I  came  to  a  river 
that  required  me  to  strip  to  the  waist.  As  I  sprinted 
up  the  hill  beyond,  the  sound  of  a  departing  train 
drifted  out  of  the  darkness  ahead  and  an  Indian  in- 
formed me  that  it  had  been  scheduled  to  leave  at  five. 
Fortunately  I  continued,  for  it  turned  out  to  be  a 
freight,  and  the  daily  passenger  left  at  six,  so  that 
just  as  the  east  began  to  turn  gray  I  was  off  on  the 
long  ride  to  the  capital. 

The  train  takes  twelve  hours  to  make  this  run  of 
129  miles  by  a  three-foot  gage  railroad,  stopping  at 
every  cluster  of  huts  along  the  way.  The  third-class 
coach  was  little  more  than  a  box-car  with  two  rough 
benches  along  its  sides.  The  passengers  were  unpre- 
possessing ;  most  of  them  ragged,  all  of  them  unclean, 
generally  with  extremely  bad  teeth,  much-pimpled 
faces,  emaciated,  and  of  undeveloped  physique,  their 
eyes  still  possessing  some  of  the  brightness  but  lack- 
ing the  snap  and  glisten  of  those  of  Tehuantepec  and 
the  plateau.  Many  were  chrome-yellow  with  fever. 
Ragged  officers  of  law  and  disorder  were  numerous, 
often  in  bare  feet,  the  same  listless  inefficiency  show- 
ing in  their  weak,  unproductive,  unshaven  features. 
The  car  grew  so  crowded  I  went  to  sit  on  the  plat- 
form rail,  as  had  a  half-dozen  already,  though  large 
signs  on  the  door  forbade  it. 

It  was  after  noon  when  we  reached  the  first  im- 
portant town,  Esquintla.     Here  the  tropics  ended 


HURRYING  THROUGH  GUATEMALA      275 

and  the  train  began  to  climb,  so  slowly  we  could  have 
stepped  off  anywhere,  the  vegetation  visibly  changing 
in  character  with  every  mile.  On  the  now-crowded 
platform  two  natives  alternately  ordered  American 
beer  of  the  train-boy,  at  $5  a  bottle !  At  Palin  we 
were  assailed  by  tattered  vendors  of  all  manner  of 
fruit,  enormous  pineapples  selling  for  sixty  guate- 
malteco  cents.  Amatitlan  also  swarmed  with  hawkers, 
but  this  time  of  candy  in  the  form  of  animals  of  every 
known  and  imaginable  species.  Thereafter  we  wound 
round  beautiful  Lake  Amatitlan,  a  dark,  smooth 
stretch  of  water,  swarming  with  fish  and  bottomless, 
according  to  my  fellow  platformers,  flanked  by  slop- 
ing, green,  shrub-clad  banks  that  reflected  themselves 
in  it.  The  train  crossed  the  middle  of  the  lake  by  a 
stone  dyke  and  climbed  higher  and  ever  higher,  with 
splendid  views  of  the  perfect  cone-shaped  volcanoes 
Agua  and  Panteleon  that  have  gradually  thrown 
themselves  up  to  be  the  highest  in  Guatemala  and  visi- 
ble from  almost  every  part  of  the  republic.  It  was 
growing  dark  when  the  first  houses  of  Guatemala  City 
appeared  among  the  trees,  and  gradually  and  slowly 
we  dragged  into  the  station.  A  bare-footed  police- 
man on  the  train  took  the  names  and  biographies  of 
all  on  board,  as  another  had  already  done  at  Es- 
quintla,  and  we  were  free  to  crowd  out  into  the  rag- 
ged, one-story  city  with  its  languid  mule-cars. 

In  the  "  Hotel  Colon  "  opposite  Guatemala's  chief 
theater  and  shouldering  the  president's  house,  which 


276      TRAMPING  THROUGH  GUATEMALA 

is  tailor-shop  and  saloon  below,  the  daily  rate  was 
$12.  The  food  was  more  than  plentiful,  but  would 
have  been  an  insult  to  the  stomach  of  a  harvest-hand, 
the  windowless  room  was  musty  and  dirty,  the  walls 
splashed,  spotted,  and  torn,  and  the  bed  was  by  far 
the  worst  I  had  occupied  south  of  the  Rio  Grande, 
having  not  only  a  board  floor  but  a  mattress  that 
seemed  to  be  stuffed  with  broken  and  jagged  rocks. 
Notwithstanding  all  which  I  slept  the  clock  round. 

If  there  is  any  "  sight  "  in  Guatemala  City  besides 
its  slashing  sunlight  and  its  surrounding  volcanoes, 
and  perhaps  its  swarms  of  Indians  trotting  to  and 
from  the  market  on  Sundaj^s,  it  is  the  relief  map  of 
the  entire  Republic  inside  the  race-course.  This  is 
of  cement,  with  real  water  to  represent  the  lakes  and 
oceans  and  (when  it  is  turned  on)  the  rivers.  Every 
town,  railway,  and  trail  of  any  importance  is  marked, 
an  aid  to  the  vagabond  that  should  be  required  by 
law  of  every  country.  On  it  I  picked  out  easily  the 
route  of  my  further  travels.  The  map  covers  a  space 
as  large  as  a  moderate-sized  house  and  is  seen  in  all 
its  details  from  the  two  platforms  above  it.  Its 
only  apparent  fault  is  that  the  mountains  and  vol- 
canoes are  out  of  all  proportion  in  height.  But  ex- 
aggeration is  a  common  Central-American  failing. 

The  city  is  populous,  chiefly  with  shoeless  inhabi- 
tants, monotonously  flat,  few  buildings  for  dread  of 
earthquake  being  over  one  story,  even  the  national 
palace  and  cathedral  sitting  low  and  squat.     An  ele- 


'!r:-::ji'^%.'"^^3^'i  '',ii^M'Wri 


< 


o 


HURRYING  THROUGH  GUATEMALA      279 

vation  of  five  thousand  feet  gives  it  a  pleasant  June 
weather,  but  life  moves  with  a  drowsy,  self-contented 
air.  Its  people  are  far  more  obliging  than  the  aver- 
age of  Mexico  and  have  little  or  none  of  the  latter's 
sulkiness  or  half-insolence.  Here  reigns  supreme 
Estrada  Cabrera ;  exactly  where  very  few  know,  for 
so  great  is  his  dislike  to  assassination  that  he  jumps 
about  incessantly  from  one  of  his  one-story  resi- 
dences to  another,  perhaps,  as  his  people  assert,  by 
underground  passages,  for  he  is  seldom  indeed  seen 
in  the  flesh  by  his  fond  subjects.  In  less  material 
manifestations  he  is  omnipresent  and  few  are  the  men 
who  have  long  outlived  his  serious  displeasure.  A 
man  of  modest  ability  but  of  extremely  suspicious 
temperament,  he  keeps  the  reins  of  government  al- 
most entirely  in  his  own  hands,  running  the  country 
as  if  it  were  his  private  estate,  which  for  some  years 
past  it  virtually  has  been.  It  is  a  form  of  govern- 
ment not  entirely  unfitted  to  a  people  in  the  bulk 
utterly  indifferent  as  to  who  or  what  rules  them  so 
they  are  left  to  loaf  in  their  hammocks  in  peace,  and 
no  more  capable  of  ruling  themselves  than  of  lifting 
themselves  by  their  non-existent  boot-straps.  Out- 
wardly^ life  seems  to  run  as  smoothly  as  elsewhere,  and 
the  casual  passer-by  does  not  to  his  knowledge  make 
the  acquaintance  of  those  reputed  bands  of  adven- 
turers from  many  climes  said  to  carry  out  swiftly  and 
efficiently  every  whispered  command  of  Guatemala's 
invisible  ruler. 


280      TRAMPING  THROUGH  GUATEMALA 

On  Sunday  a  bull-fight  was  perpetrated  in  the 
plaza  de  toros  facing  the  station.  It  was  a  dreary 
caricature  on  the  royal  sport  of  Spain.  The  plaza 
was  little  more  than  a  rounded  barnyard,  the  four 
gaunt  and  cowardly  animals  with  blunted  horns  vir- 
tually lifeless,  picadors  and  horses  were  conspicu- 
ous by  their  absence,  and  the  two  matadors  were  not 
even  skilful  butchers.  A  cuadrilla  of  women  did  the 
"  Suerte  de  Tancredo  "  on  one  another's  backs  —  as 
any  one  else  could  have  on  his  head  or  in  a  rocking- 
chair  —  and  the  only  breath  of  excitement  was  when 
one  of  the  feminine  toreras  got  walked  on  by  a  fear- 
quaking  animal  vainly  seeking  an  exit.  All  in  all  it 
was  an  extremely  poor  newsboys'  entertainment,  a 
means  of  collecting  admissions  for  the  privilege  of 
seeing  to-morrow's  meat  prepared,  the  butchers  skin- 
ning and  quartering  the  animals  within  the  enclosure 
in  full  sight  of  the  disheveled  audience. 

The  train  mounted  out  of  the  capital  with  much 
winding,  as  many  as  three  sections  of  track  one  above 
another  at  times,  and,  once  over  the  range,  fell  in 
with  a  river  on  its  way  to  the  Atlantic.  The  coun- 
try grew  dry  and  Mexican,  covered  with  fine  white 
dust  and  grown  with  cactus.  At  Zacapa,  largest 
town  of  the  line,  Dakin  was  already  at  work  in  a  ma- 
chine-shop on  wheels  in  the  railroad  yards,  and  Ems 
was  preparing  to  take  charge  of  one  of  the  locomo- 
tives. Descending  with  the  swift  stream,  we  soon 
plunged  into  thickening  jungle,  growing  even  more 


HURRYING  THROUGH  GUATEMALA      281 

dense  than  that  of  Tehuantepcc,  with  trees,  plants, 
and  all  the  stationary  forms  of  nature  struggling 
like  an  immense  multitude  fighting  for  life,  the  smaller 
and  more  agile  climbing  the  sturdier,  the  weak  and 
unassertive  trampled  to  death  underfoot  on  the 
dank,  sunless  ground.  We  crossed  the  now  consid- 
erable river  by  a  three-span  bridge,  and  entered  the 
banana  country.  English-speaking  Negroes  became 
numerous,  and  when  we  pulled  in  at  the  station  of 
Quiragua,  the  collection  of  bamboo  shanties  I  had  ex- 
pected was  displaced  by  several  new  and  modern 
bungalows  on  the  brow  of  a  knoll  overlooking  the 
railroad.  Here  was  one  of  the  great  plantations 
of  the  United  Fruit  Company.  From  the  ver- 
anda of  the  office  building  broad  miles  of  banana 
plants  stretched  away  to  the  southern  mountains. 
Jamaican  Negroes  were  chiefly  engaged  in  the  banana 
culture,  and  those  from  our  Southern  States  did  the 
heavier  and  rougher  work.  Their  wages  ran  as  high 
as  a  dollar  gold  a  day,  as  against  a  Guatemalan  peso 
for  the  native  peons  of  the  coffee  estates  in  other  sec- 
tions. Much  of  the  work  was  let  out  on  contract. 
There  were  a  number  of  white  American  employees, 
college-trained  in  some  cases,  and  almost  all  ex- 
tremely youthful.  The  heat  here  was  tropical  and 
heavy,  the  place  being  a  bare  three  hundred  feet 
above  sea-level  where  even  clothing  quickl}'  molds 
and  rots.  My  fellow  countrymen  had  found  the  most 
dangerous  pastimes  in  this   climate  to  be  drinking 


282      TRAMPING  THROUGH  GUATEMALA 

liquor  and  eating  bananas,  while  the  mass  of  em- 
ployees more  often  came  to  grief  in  the  feuds  between 
the  various  breeds  of  Negroes  and  with  the  natives. 

In  the  morning  a  handcar  provided  with  a  seat  and 
manned  by  two  muscular  Carib  Negroes  carried  me 
away  through  the  banana  jungle  by  a  private  rail- 
road. The  atmosphere  was  thick  and  heavy  as 
soured  milk.  A  half-hour  between  endless  walls  of 
banana  plants  brought  me  to  a  palm-leaf  hut,  from 
which  I  splashed  away  on  foot  through  a  riot  of 
wet  jungle  to  the  famous  ruins  of  Quiragua.  Arche- 
ologists  had  cleared  a  considerable  square  in  the 
wilderness,  still  within  the  holdings  of  the  fruit  com- 
pany, felling  many  enormous  trees  ;  but  the  place  was 
already  half  choked  again  with  compact  under- 
growth. There  were  three  immense  stone  pillars  in 
a  row,  then  two  others  leaning  at  precarious  angles, 
while  in  and  out  through  the  adjacent  jungle  were 
scattered  carved  stones  in  the  forms  of  frogs  and 
other  animals,  clumsily  depicted,  a  small  calendar 
stone,  and  an  immense  carved  rock  reputed  to  have 
been  a  place  of  sacrifice.  Several  artificial  mounds 
were  now  mere  stone  hills  overgrown  with  militant 
vegetation,  as  were  remnants  of  old  stone  roadways. 
Every  stone  was  covered  with  distinct  but  crudely 
carved  figures,  the  most  prominent  being  that  of  a 
king  with  a  large  Roman  nose  but  very  little  chin, 
wearing  an  intricate  crown  surmounted  by  a  death's- 
head,  holding  a  scepter  in  one  hand  and  in  the  other 


HURRYING  THROUGH  GUATEMALA  283 

what  appeared  to  be  a  child  spitted  on  a  toasting 
fork.  All  was  of  a  species  of  sandstone  that  has 
withstood  the  elements  moderately  well,  especially  if, 
as  archeologists  assert,  the  ruins  represent  a  city 
founded  some  three  thousand  years  ago.  Some  of 
the  faces,  however,  particularly  those  toward  the 
east  and  south  from  which  come  most  of  the  storms, 
were  worn  almost  smooth  and  were  covered  with  moss 
and  throttling  vegetation.  Through  it  all  a  mist 
that  was  virtually  a  rain  fell  incessantly,  and  ground 
and  jungle  reeked  with  a  clinging  mud  and  dripping 
water  that  soaked  through  shoes  and  garments. 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE  UPS  AND  DOWNS  OF  HONDURAS 

THE  train  carried  me  back  up  the  river  to  Za- 
capa,  desert  dry  and  stinginglj  hot  with  noon- 
day. Report  had  it  that  there  was  a  good  road  to 
Jocotan  by  way  of  Chiquimula,  but  the  difference  be- 
tween a  "  buen  camino  "  and  a  mere  "  road  "  is  so 
slight  in  Central  America  that  I  concluded  to  follow 
the  more  direct  trail.  The  next  essential  was  to 
change  my  wealth  into  Honduranean  silver,  chiefly 
in  coins  of  one  real,  corresponding  in  value  to  an 
American  nickel;  for  financial  transactions  were  apt 
to  be  petty  in  the  region  ahead  of  me.  In  the  col- 
lection I  gathered  among  the  merchants  of  Zacapa 
were  silver  dollars  of  Mexico,  Salvador,  Chile,  and 
Peru,  all  of  which  stand  on  terms  of  perfect  equal- 
ity with  the  peso  of  Honduras,  worth  some  forty 
cents.  My  load  was  heavier,  as  befitted  an  exit  from 
even  quasi-civilization.  The  rucksack  was  packed 
with  more  than  fourteen  pounds,  not  counting  kodak 
and  weapon,  and  for  the  equivalent  of  some  thirty 
cents  in  real  money  I  had  acquired  in  the  market  of 
Guatemala  City  a  hammock,  more  exactly  a  sleep- 

284 


UPS  AND  DOWNS  OF  HONDURAS      285 

ing-net,  made  of  a  species  of  grass  by  the  Indians  of 
Coban. 

Under  all  this  I  was  soon  panting  up  through  the 
once  cobbled  village  of  Zacapa  and  across  a  rising 
sand-patch  beyond,  cheered  on  by  the  parting  infor- 
mation that  the  last  traveler  to  set  out  on  this  route 
had  been  killed  a  few  miles  from  town  for  the  $2 
or  so  he  carried.  Mine  would  not  have  been  any 
particular  burden  in  a  level  or  temperate  country, 
but  this  was  neither.  The  sun  hung  so  close  it  felt 
like  some  immense  red-hot  ingot  swinging  overhead 
in  a  foundry.  The  road  —  and  in  Central  Amer- 
ica that  word  seldom  represents  anything  better  than 
a  rocky,  winding  trail  with  rarely  a  level  yard  — 
sweated  up  and  down  sharp  mountain  faces,  pick- 
ing its  way  as  best  it  could  over  a  continual  succes- 
sion of  steep  lofty  ridges.  Even  before  I  lost  the 
railway  to  view  I  was  dripping  wet  from  cap  to 
shoes,  drops  fell  constantly  from  the  end  of  my  nose, 
and  my  eyes  stung  with  salt  even  though  I  plunged 
my  face  into  every  stream.  IMy  American  shoes  had 
succumbed  on  the  tramp  to  Retalhuleu  and  the  best 
I  had  been  able  to  do  in  Guatemala  City  was  to 
squander  $45  for  a  pair  of  native  make  and  chop 
them  down  into  Oxfords.  These,  soaked  in  the  jun- 
gle of  Quiragua,  now  dried  iron-stiff  in  the  sun  and 
barked  my  feet  in  various  places. 

I  had  crossed  four  ranges  and  was  winding  along 
a  narrow,  dense-grown  valley  when  night  began  to 


286     TRAMPING  THROUGH  HONDURAS 

fall.  The  rumors  of  foul  play  led  me  to  keep  a 
hand  hanging  loose  near  my  weapon,  though  the  few 
natives  I  met  seemed  friendly  enough.  Darkness 
thickened  and  I  was  planning  to  swing  my  hammock 
among  the  trees  when  I  fell  upon  the  hut  of  Coronado 
Cordon.  It  was  a  sieve-like  structure  of  bamboo, 
topped  by  a  thick  palm-leaf  roof,  with  an  outdoor 
mud  fireplace,  and  crowded  with  dogs,  pigs,  and 
roosted  fowls.  Coronado  himself,  attired  in  the 
remnants  of  a  pair  of  cotton  trousers,  greeted  me 
from  his  hammock. 

"  May  I  pass  the  night  with  you?  " 

"  To  be  sure,  seiior.  You  may  sleep  on  this  bench 
under  the  roof." 

But  I  produced  my  hammock  and  he  swung  it  for 
me  from  two  bamboo  rafters  of  the  low  projecting 
eaves,  beside  his  own  and  that  of  a  horseman  who 
had  also  sought  hospitality,  where  a  steady  breeze 
swept  through.  His  wife  squatted  for  an  hour  or 
more  over  the  fireplace,  and  at  length  I  sat  down  — 
on  the  ground  —  to  black  coffee,  frijoles,  tortillas, 
and  a  kind  of  Dutch  cheese. 

Long  before  morning  I  was  too  cold,  even  under 
most  of  the  contents  of  my  pack,  to  sleep  soundly. 
It  was  December  and  the  days  were  short  for  tramp- 
ing. This  one  did  not  begin  to  break  until  six  and 
I  had  been  awake  and  ready  since  three.  Coronado 
slept  on,  but  his  seiiora  arose  and,  covering  her 
breasts  with  a  small  apron,  took  to  grinding  corn  for 


'^"^ 

I  topped  a  ridge  and  caught  sight  at  last  of  Santa  Rosa,  first  town 
of  anj'  size  in  Honduras 


-^^^^^i-.-.^^ 


Soldiers  of  Santa  Rosa  eating  in  tlie  market-place 


UPS  AND  DOWNS  OF  HONDURAS      289 

tortillas.  These  with  coffee  and  two  eggs  dropped 
for  a  moment  in  hot  water,  after  a  pin-hole  had  been 
broken  in  each,  made  up  my  breakfast,  and  brought 
my  bill  up  to  nearly  eleven  cents. 

I  was  off  in  the  damp  dawn.  Any  enumeration  of 
the  rocky,  slippery,  twisting  trails  by  which  I  panted 
up  and  over  perpendicular  mountain  ridges  under 
a  burning  sun  without  the  shadow  of  a  cloud,  would 
be  wearisome.  Sweat  threatened  to  ruin  even  the 
clothing  in  my  bundle,  it  soaked  even  belt  and  hol- 
ster, rusting  the  weapon  within  it,  and  leaving  a 
visible  trail  behind  me.  Once,  at  the  careless  nod 
of  an  Indian,  I  strained  up  an  all  but  perpendicular 
slope,  only  to  have  the  trail  end  hundreds  of  feet 
above  the  river  in  a  fading  cow-path  and  leave  me 
to  climb  down  again.  Farther  on  it  dodged  from 
under  my  feet  once  more  and,  missing  a  reputed 
bridge,  forced  me  to  ford  a  chest-deep  river  which 
all  but  swept  me  away,  possessions  and  all,  at  the 
first  attempt. 

Jocotan,  on  the  farther  bank,  was  a  lazy,  sun- 
baked village  the  chief  industry  of  which  seemed  to  be 
swinging  in  hammocks,  though  I  did  manage  to  run 
to  earth  the  luxury  of  a  dish  of  tough  meat.  Co- 
motan  was  close  beyond,  then  came  two  hours 
straight  up  to  a  region  of  pine-trees  with  vistas  of 
never-ending  mountains  everywhere  dense-forested, 
the  few  adobe  or  bamboo  huts  tucked  in  among  them 
being  as  identically  alike  as  the  inhabitants.     These 


290     TRAMPING  THROUGH  HONDURAS 

were  almost  obsequious  peons,  wearing  a  sort  of  white 
pajamas  and  moderate-sized  straw  hats,  all  strangely 
clean.  Each  carried  a  machete,  generally  with  a 
curved  point,  and  not  a  few  had  guns.  Toward  even- 
ing I  struck  a  bit  of  level  going  amid  dense  vegeta- 
tion without  a  breath  of  air  along  the  bank  of  a  river 
that  must  be  forded  lower  down,  which  fact  I  took 
advantage  of  to  perpetrate  a  general  laundering. 
This  proved  unwise,  for  the  sun  went  down  before 
the  garments  had  dried  and  left  me  to  lug  on  along 
the  stream  those  the  unexacting  customs  of  the  coun- 
try did  not  require  me  to  put  on  wet.  Every  hun- 
dred yards  the  trail  went  swiftly  down  into  the  stony 
bed  of  a  tributary,  with  or  without  water,  and  clam- 
bered breathlessly  out  again.  A  barked  heel  had 
festered  and  made  every  other  step  painful. 

It  was  more  than  an  hour  after  dark  that  I 
sweated  into  the  aldea  of  Chupa,  so  scattered  that  as 
each  hut  refused  me  lodging  I  had  to  hobble  on  a 
considerable  distance  to  the  next.  The  fourth  or 
fifth  refusal  I  declined  to  accept  and  swung  my  ham- 
mock under  the  eaves.  A  woman  was  cooking  on 
the  earth  floor  for  several  peon  travelers,  but  treated 
me  only  with  a  stony  silence.  One  of  the  Indians, 
however,  who  had  been  a  soldier  and  was  more 
friendly  or  less  suspicious  of  "  gringoes,"  divided 
with  me  his  single  tortilla  and  bowl  of  frijoles.  The 
family  slept  on  dried  cowskins  spread  on  the  bare 
earth. 


UPS  AND  DOWNS  OF  HONDURAS      291 

Food  was  not  to  be  had  when  I  folded  mj  hammock 
and  pushed  on  at  daylight.  One  of  a  cluster  of  huts 
farther  up  was  given  over  to  a  squad  of  "  sol- 
diers," garrisoning  the  frontier,  and  an  officer  who 
would  have  ranked  as  a  vagabond  in  another 
country  sold  me  three  tortillas  and  a  shellful  of 
coffee  saved  from  his  rations.  Another  cluster 
of  huts  marked  the  beginning  of  a  stiff  rocky  climb, 
beyond  which  I  passed  somewhere  in  a  swampy 
stretch  of  uninhabited  ground  the  invisible  bound- 
ary and  entered  Honduras,  the  Land  of  Great 
Depths. 

It  was  indeed.  Soon  a  vast  mountain  covered 
with  pine  forest  rose  into  the  sky  ahead  and  two 
hours  of  unbroken  climbing  brought  me  only  to  the 
rim  of  another  great  wooded  valley  scolloped  out  of 
the  earth  and  down  into  which  I  went  all  but  head- 
first into  the  town  of  Cop^in.  Here,  as  I  sat  in  a 
fairly  easy  chair  in  the  shaded  corner  of  a  barnyard 
among  pigs,  chickens,  and  turkeys  while  my  tortillas 
were  preparing,  I  got  the  first  definite  information 
as  to  the  tramp  before  me.  Tegucigalpa,  the  capi- 
tal, was  said  to  be  fifteen  days  distant  by  mule.  On 
foot  it  might  prove  a  trifle  less.  But  if  transpor- 
tation in  the  flesh  was  laborious  and  slow,  the  ease  of 
verbal  communication  partly  made  up  for  it.  A 
telegram  to  the  capital  cost  me  the  sum  total  'of  one 
real.  It  should  have  been  a  real  and  a  quarter,  but 
the  telegraph  operator  had  no  change ! 


292     TRAMPING  THROUGH  HONDURAS 

Beyond  the  town  I  found  with  some  difficulty  the 
gate  through  which  one  must  pass  to  visit  the  an- 
cient ruins  of  Copan.  Once  inside  it,  a  path  led 
through  jungle  and  tobacco  fields  and  came  at  length 
to  a  great  artificial  mound,  originally  built  of  cut- 
stone,  but  now  covered  with  deep  grass  and  a  splen- 
did grove  of  immense  trees,  until  in  appearance  only 
a  natural  hill  remained.  About  the  foot  of  this, 
throttled  by  vegetation,  lay  scattered  a  score  or  more 
of  carved  stones,  only  one  or  two  of  which  were  par- 
ticularly striking.  Summer  solitude  hovered  over  all 
the  scene. 

Back  again  on  the  "  camino  real "  I  found  the 
going  for  once  ideal.  The  way  lay  almost  level  along 
a  fairly  wide  strip  of  lush-green  grass  with  only 
a  soft-footed,  eight-inch  path  marking  the  route,  and 
heavy  jungle  giving  unbroken  shade.  Then  came 
a  hard  climb,  just  when  I  had  begun  to  hear  the  river 
and  was  laying  plans  for  a  drink  and  a  swim,  and 
the  trail  led  me  far  up  on  the  grassy  brow  of  a 
mountain,  from  which  spread  a  vast  panorama  of 
pine-clad  world.  But  the  trails  of  Honduras  are  like 
spendthrift  adventurers,  struggling  with  might  and 
main  to  gain  an  advantage,  only  wantonly  to  throw 
it  away  again  a  moment  later.  This  one  pitched 
headlong  down  again,  then  climbed,  then  descended 
over  and  again,  as  if  setting  itself  some  useless  task 
for  the  mere  pleasure  of  showing  its  powers  of  en- 
durance.    It  subsided  at  last  in  the  town  of  Santa 


Christmas  dinner  on  the  road  in  Plonduras 


Several   times   I  met  the  famiUes  of  soldie"s   tramping  northward 
with  all  their  possessions 


UPS  AND  DOWNS  OF  HONDURAS      295 

Rita,  the  comandante  of  which,  otherwise  a  pleas- 
ant enough  fellow,  took  me  for  a  German.  It  served 
me  right  for  not  having  taken  the  time  to  shave  my 
upper  lip.  He  had  me  write  mj  name  on  a  slip  of 
paper  and  bade  me  adios  with  the  information  that 
if  "  my  legs  were  well  oiled  "  I  could  make  the  haci- 
enda Jarral  by  nightfall. 

I  set  a  good  pace  along  the  flat,  shaded,  grassy 
lane  beside  the  river,  promising  myself  a  swim  upon 
sighting  my  destination.  But  the  tricky  trail  sud- 
denly and  unexpectedly  led  me  far  up  on  a  moun- 
tain flank  and  down  into  Jarral  without  again  catch- 
ing sight  or  sound  of  the  stream.  There  were  three 
or  four  palm-leaf  huts  and  a  large,  long  hacienda 
building,  unspeakably  dirty  and  dilapidated.  The 
estate  produced  coffee,  heaps  of  which  in  berry  and 
kernel  stood  here  and  there  in  the  dusk.  The  owner 
lived  elsewhere ;  for  which  no  one  could  blame  him. 
I  marched  out  along  the  great  tile-floored  veranda 
to  mention  to  the  stupid  viayordovio  the  relation- 
ship of  money  and  food.  He  referred  me  to  a  filth- 
encrusted  woman  in  the  cavern-like  kitchen,  where 
three  soiled  and  bedraggled  babies  slept  on  a  dirtier 
reed  mat  on  the  filthy  earth  floor,  another  in  a  ham- 
mock made  of  a  grain  sack  and  two  pieces  of  rope, 
amid  dogs,  pigs,  and  chickens,  not  to  mention  other 
unpleasantnesses,  including  a  damp  dungeon  atmos- 
phere that  ought  early  to  have  proved  fatal  to  the 
infants.     When  she  had  sulkily  agreed  to  prepare  me 


296     TRAMPING  THROUGH  HONDURAS 

tortillas,  I  returned  to  ask  the  way  to  the  river. 
The  mayordomo  cried  out  in  horror  at  the  notion 
of  bathing  at  night,  pointing  out  that  there  was  not 
even  a  moon,  and  prophesying  a  fatal  outcome  of 
such  foolhardiness  and  gringo  eccentricity.  His  ap- 
pearance suggested  that  he  had  also  some  strong  su- 
perstition against  bathing  by  day. 

I  stumbled  nearly  a  mile  along  to-morrow's  road, 
stepping  now  and  then  into  ankle-deep  mud  puddles, 
before  reaching  the  stream,  but  a  plunge  into  a 
stored-up  pool  of  it  was  more  than  ample  reward. 
"  Supper "  was  ready  upon  my  return,  and  by 
asking  the  price  of  it  at  once  and  catching  the 
woman  by  surprise  I  was  charged  only  a  legitimate 
amount.  When  I  inquired  where  I  might  swing 
my  hammock,  the  enemy  of  bathing  pointed  silently 
upward  at  the  rafters  of  the  veranda.  These 
were  at  least  ten  feet  above  the  tiled  floor  and  I 
made  several  ineffectual  efforts  before  I  could  reach 
them  at  all,  and  then  only  succeeded  in  hanging  my 
sleeping-net  so  that  it  doubled  me  up  like  a  jack- 
knife.  Rearranging  it  near  the  corner  of  the  ver- 
anda, I  managed  with  great  effort  to  climb  into  it, 
but  to  have  fallen  out  would  have  been  to  drop  either 
some  eight  feet  to  the  stone-flagged  door  or  twenty 
into  the  cobbled  and  filthy  barnyard  below.  The 
chances  of  this  outcome  were  much  increased  by  the 
necessity  of  using  a  piece  of  old  rope  belonging  to 
the  hacienda,  and  a  broken  arm  or  leg  would  have 


UPS  AND  DOWNS  OF  HONDURAS      297 

been  pleasant  indeed  here  in  the  squalid  wilderness 
with  at  least  a  hundred  miles  of  mule-trail  to  the 
nearest  doctor. 

Luckily  I  only  fell  asleep.  Several  men  and 
dirtier  boys,  all  in  what  had  once  been  white  gar- 
ments, had  curled  up  on  bundles  of  dirty  mats  and 
heaps  of  bags  all  over  the  place,  and  the  night  was  a 
pandemonium  of  their  coughing,  snoring,  and  night- 
maring,  mingled  with  the  hubbub  of  dogs,  roosters, 
turkeys,  cattle,  and  a  porcine  multitude  that  snug- 
gled in  among  the  human  sleepers.  The  place  was 
surrounded  by  wet,  pine-clad  mountains,  and  the 
damp  night  air  drifting  in  upon  me  soon  grew  cold 
and  penetrating. 

Having  had  time  to  collect  her  wits,  the  female 
of  the  dungeon  charged  me  a  quadrupled  price  for 
a  late  breakfast  of  black  coffee  and  pin-holed  eggs, 
and  I  set  off  on  what  turned  out  to  be  a  not  en- 
tirely pleasant  day's  tramp.  To  begin  with  I  had 
caught  cold  in  a  barked  heel,  causing  the  cords  of  the 
leg  to  swell  and  stiffen.  Next  I  found  that  the 
rucksack  had  worn  through  where  it  came  in  con- 
tact with  my  back ;  third,  the  knees  of  the  breeches 
I  wore  succumbed  to  the  combination  of  sweat  and 
the  tearing  of  jungle  grasses;  fourth,  the  garments 
I  carried  against  the  day  I  should  again  enter  civili- 
zation were  already  rumpled  and  stained  almost  be- 
yond repair ;  and,  fifth,  but  by  no  means  last,  the  few 
American   bills    I    carried   in   a   secret   pocket   had 


298      TRAMPING  THROUGH  HONDURAS 

been  almost  effaced  by  humidity  and  friction.  Fur- 
thermore, the  "  road  "  completely  surpassed  all  hu- 
man powers  of  description.  When  it  was  not  split- 
ting into  a  half-dozen  faint  paths,  any  one  of  which 
was  sure  to  fade  from  existence  as  soon  as  it  had  suc- 
ceeded in  leading  me  astray  in  a  panting  chase  up 
some  perpendicular  slope,  it  was  splashing  through 
mud-holes  or  small  rivers.  At  the  first  stream  I 
squandered  a  half-hour  disrobing  and  dressing  again, 
only  to  find  that  some  two  hundred  yards  farther 
on  it  swung  around  once  more  across  the  trail. 
Twice  it  repeated  that  stale  practical  joke.  At  the 
fourth  crossing  I  forestalled  it  by  marching  on,  car- 
rying all  but  shirt  and  hat, —  and  got  only  sunburn 
and  stone-bruises  for  my  foresight,  for  the  thing  dis- 
appeared entirely.  Still  farther  on  I  attempted  to 
save  time  by  crossing  another  small  river  by  a  series 
of  stepping-stones,  reached  the  middle  of  it  dry-shod, 
looked  about  for  the  next  step,  and  then  carefully  lay 
down  at  full  length,  baggage  and  all,  in  the  stream  as 
the  stone  turned  over  under  my  feet.  But  by  that 
time  I  needed  another  bath. 

An  old  woman  of  La  Libertad,  a  collection  of  mud 
huts  wedged  into  a  little  plain  between  jungled  moun- 
tain-sides, answered  my  hungry  query  with  a  cheery 
"  Como  no !  "  and  in  due  time  set  before  me  black 
beans  and  blacker  coffee  and  a  Honduranean  tortilla, 
which  are  several  times  thicker  and  heavier  than  those 
of  Mexico  and  taste  not  unlike  a  plank  of  dough. 


h  -^ 


53^ 


c  y 


UPS  AND  DOWNS  OF  HONDURAS      301 

Though  often  good-hearted  enough,  these  children 
of  the  wilderness  have  no  more  inkling  of  any  line  be- 
tween dirt  and  cleanliness,  nor  any  more  desire  to  im- 
prove their  conditions,  themselves,  or  their  surround- 
ings, which  we  of  civilized  lands  think  of  as 
humanity's  privilege  and  requirement,  than  the 
mangy  yellow  curs  that  slink  in  and  out  between  their 
legs  and  among  their  cooking  pots.  I  had  yet  to  see 
in  Honduras  a  house,  a  garment,  a  single  possession, 
or  person  that  was  anything  short  of  filthy^. 

As  I  ate,  a  gaunt  and  yellow  youth  arrived  with  a 
rag  tied  about  his  brow,  complaining  that  a  fever  had 
overtaken  him  on  a  steep  mountain  trail  and  left  him 
helpless  for  hours.  I  made  use  for  the  first  time  of 
the  small  medicine  case  I  carried.  Then  the  old 
woman  broke  in  to  announce  that  her  daughter  also 
had  fever.  I  found  a  child  of  ten  tossing  on  a  miser- 
able canvas  cot  in  the  mud  hut  before  which  I  sat, 
her  pulse  close  to  the  hundred  mark.  When  I  had 
treated  her  to  the  best  of  my  ability,  the  mother 
stated  that  a  friend  in  a  neighboring  hut  had  been 
suffering  for  more  than  a  week  with  chills  and  fever, 
but  that  she  was  "  embarrassed  "  and  must  not  take 
anything  that  might  bring  that  condition  prema- 
turely to  a  head.  I  prescribed  not  without  some 
layman  misgiving.  Great  astonishment  spread 
throughout  the  hamlet  when  I  refused  payment  for 
my  services,  and  the  old  woman  not  only  vociferously 
declined  the  coin  I  proffered  for  the  food,  but  bade 


302      TRAMPING  THROUGH  HONDURAS 

me  farewell  with  a  vehement  "  Di6s  se  lo  pagara  " — 
whether  in  Honduranean  change  or  not  she  did  not 
specify.  The  majority  of  the  inhabitants  of  the 
wilds  of  Honduras  live  and  die  without  any  other 
medical  attention  than  those  of  a  rare  wandering 
charlatan  or  pill-peddler. 

Beyond  was  a  rising  path  through  dense  steaming 
jungle,  soon  crossed  by  the  ubiquitous  river. 
Across  it,  near  a  pretty  waterfall,  the  trail  climbed 
up  and  ever  up  through  jungle  and  forest,  often  deep 
in  mud  and  in  places  so  steep  I  had  to  mount  on  all 
fours,  slipping  back  at  each  step  like  the  proverbial 
frog  in  the  well.  A  splendid  virgin  forest  sur- 
rounded me,  thick  with  undergrowth,  the  immense 
trees  whispering  together  far  above.  A  half-hour 
up,  the  trail,  all  but  effaced,  was  cut  off  by  a  newly 
constructed  rail  fence  tied  together  with  vines  run 
through  holes  that  had  been  pierced  in  the  buttresses 
of  giants  of  the  forest.  There  was  no  other  route  in 
sight,  however,  and  I  climbed  the  obstruction  and 
sweated  another  half-hour  upward.  A  vista  of  at 
least  eight  heavily  wooded  ranges  opened  out  behind 
me,  not  an  inch  of  which  was  not  covered  with  dense- 
green  treetops.  Far  up  near  the  gates  of  heaven  I 
came  upon  a  sun-flooded  sloping  clearing  planted 
with  tobacco,  and  found  a  startled  peon  in  the  shade 
of  a  make-shift  leaf  hut.  Instead  of  climbing  the 
hill  by  this  private  trail,  I  should  immediately  have 


UPS  AND  DOWNS  OF  HONDURAS      303 

crossed   the   river  again  more   than   an  hour  below 
and  continued  on  along  it ! 

When  he  had  recovered  from  the  fright  caused  by 
so  unexpected  an  apparition,  the  Indian  yielded  up 
his  double-bodied  gourd  and  made  no  protest  when 
I  gurgled  down  about  half  the  water  he  had  carried 
up  the  mountain  for  his  day's  thirst.  That  at  least 
was  some  reward  for  the  useless  climb,  for  there  is 
no  greater  physical  pleasure  than  drinking  one's  fill 
of  clear  cold  water  after  a  toilsome  tropical  tramp. 
I  crashed  and  slid  down  to  the  river  again  and  picked 
up  once  more  the  muddy  path  along  it  between  dense 
walls  of  damp  jungle.  It  grew  worse  and  worse, 
falling  in  with  a  smaller  stream  and  leaping  back 
and  forth  across  it  every  few  yards,  sometimes  per- 
mitting me  to  dodge  across  like  a  tight-rope  walker 
on  wet  mossy  stones,  more  often  delaying  me  to  re- 
move shoes  and  leggings.  An  hour  of  this  and  the 
scene  changed.  A  vast  mountain  wall  rose  before 
me,  and  a  sharp  rocky  trail  at  times  like  steps  cut 
by  nature  in  the  rock  face  led  up  and  up  and  still 
forever  upward.  A  score  of  times  I  seemed  to  have 
reached  the  summit,  only  to  find  that  the  trail  took 
a  new  turn  and,  gathering  up  its  skirts,  climbed  away 
again  until  all  hope  of  its  ever  ceasing  its  sweating 
ascent  faded  away.  After  all  it  was  perhaps  well 
that  only  a  small  portion  of  the  climb  was  seen  at  a 
time ;  like  life  itself,  the  appalling  sight  of  all  the 


304j      TRAJMPING  THROUGH  HONDURAS 

difficulties  ahead  at  once  might  discourage  the  climber 
from  ever  undertaking  the  task. 

It  was  near  evening  when  I  came  out  in  a  slight 
clearing  on  what  was  at  last  really  the  summit.  Vast 
forests  of  whispering  pine-trees  surrounded  me,  and 
before  and  behind  lay  an  almost  endless  vista  of 
heavily  wooded,  tumbled  mountains,  on  a  low  one  of 
which,  near  at  hand  but  far  below,  could  be  seen  the 
scattered  village  of  San  Augustin.  There  was  still  a 
long  hour  down  the  opposite  face  of  the  mountain, 
with  thinner  pine  forests  and  the  red  soil  showing 
through  here  and  there ;  not  all  down  either,  for  the 
trail  had  the  confirmed  habit  of  falling  into  bot- 
tomless sharp  gullies  every  few  yards  and  strug- 
gling out  again  up  the  steepest  of  banks,  though  the 
privilege  of  thrusting  my  face  into  the  clear  moun- 
tain stream  at  the  bottom  of  each  made  me  pardon 
these  monotonous  vagaries.  After  surmounting  six 
or  eight  such  mountain  ranges  in  a  day,  under  a  sun 
like  ours  of  August  quadrupled  and  some  twenty 
pounds  of  awkward  baggage,  without  what  could 
reasonably  be  called  food,  to  say  nothing  of  festered 
heels  and  similar  petty  ailments,  the  traveler  comes 
gradually  by  nightfall  to  develop  a  desire  to  spend  ten 
minutes  under  the  electric  fans  of  a  "  Baltimore 
Lunch." 

Yet  with  all  its  difficulties  the  day  had  been  more 
than  enjoyable,  wandering  through  endless  virgin 
forests  swarming  with  strange  and  beautiful  forms 


The  great  military  force  of  Esperanza  comi)elle(i  to  ilraw  up  and 
face  mv  camera 


The  prisoners  in  their  chains  form  an  interested  audience  across  the 

street 


UPS  AND  DOWNS  OF  HONDURAS      307 

of  plant  and  bird  life,  with  rarely  a  habitation  or  a 
fellow-man  to  break  the  spell  of  pure,  unadulterated 
nature.  For  break  it  these  did.  As  the  first  hut  of 
San  Augustm  intruded  itself  in  the  growing  dusk 
there  ran  unbidden  through  my  head  an  ancient  re- 
frain: 

"Plus  je  vols  rhomme,  plus  j'aime  mon  chien." 

Nearer  the  center  of  the  collection  I  paused  to  ask 
a  man  leaning  against  his  mud  doorway  whether  he 
knew  any  one  who  would  give  me  posada.  The  eager- 
ness with  which  he  offered  to  do  so  himself  gave  me 
visions  of  an  exorbitant  bill  in  the  morning,  but  it 
turned  out  that  he  was  merely  anxious  for  the 
"  honor  "  of  lodging  a  stranger.  This  time  I  slept 
indoors.  INIy  host  himself  swung  my  hammock  from 
two  of  the  beams  in  his  large,  single-room  house 
made  of  slats  filled  in  with  mud.  Though  a  man  of 
some  education,  subscriber  to  a  newspaper  of  Salva- 
dor and  an  American  periodical  in  Spanish,  and  sur- 
rounded by  pine  forests,  it  seemed  never  to  have 
occurred  to  him  to  try  to  better  his  lot  even  to  the 
extent  of  putting  in  a  board  floor.  His  mixture  of 
knowledge  and  ignorance  was  curious.  He  knew 
most  of  the  biography  of  Edison  by  heart,  but 
thought  Paris  the  capital  of  the  United  States  and 
the  population  of  that  country  700,000. 

In  the  house  the  only  food  was  tortillas,  but  across 
the  "  street "  meat  was  for  sale.     It  proved  to  be 


308      TRAMPING  THROUGH  HONDURAS 

tough  strips  a  half-Inch  square  of  sun-dried  beef 
hanging  from  the  rafters.  I  made  another  sugges- 
tion, but  the  woman  replied  with  a  smile  half  of 
amusement  half  of  sorrow  that  all  the  chickens  had 
died.  A  few  beans  were  found,  and,  as  I  ate,  several 
men  drifted  into  the  hut  and  gradually  and  diffidently 
fell  to  asking  strange  and  childish  questions.  It  is 
hard  for  those  of  us  trained  to  democracy  and  ac- 
customed to  intercourse  only  with  "  civilized  "  people 
to  realize  that  a  bearded  man  of  forty,  with  tall  and 
muscular  frame,  may  have  only  an  infantile  grade 
of  intelligence,  following  the  conversation  while  it  is 
kept  on  the  plane  of  an  eight-year-old  intellect,  but 
incapable  of  grasping  any  real  thought,  and  staring 
with  the  open-mouthed  naivete  of  a  child. 

Tobacco  is  grown  about  San  Augustin,  and  every 
woman  of  the  place  rolls  clumsy  cigars  and  cigarettes 
as  incessantly  as  those  of  other  parts  knit  or  sew. 
The  wife  and  daughter  of  my  host  were  so  engaged 
when  I  returned,  toiling  leisurely  by  the  light  of  pine 
splinters ;  for  rural  Honduras  has  not  yet  reached 
the  candle  stage  of  progress.  For  a  half-real  I 
bought  thirty  cigarettes  of  the  size  of  a  lead-pencil, 
made  of  the  coarse  leaves  more  fitted  to  cigars.  The 
man  and  wife,  and  the  child  that  had  been  stark  naked 
ever  since  my  arrival,  at  length  rolled  up  together 
on  a  bundle  of  rags  on  the  dank  earth  floor,  the 
daughter  of  eighteen  climbed  a  knotched  stick  into  a 
cubbyhole  under  the  roof,  and  when  the  pine  splinter 


UPS  AND  DOWNS  OF  HONDURAS      309 

flickered  out  I  was  able  for  the  first  night  in  Hon- 
duras to  get  out  of  my  knee-cramping  breeches  and 
into  more  comfortable  sleeping  garments.  The 
festered  heel  gave  me  considerable  annoyance.  A 
bread  and  milk  poultice  would  no  doubt  have  drawn 
the  fever  out  of  it,  but  even  had  any  such  luxury 
been  obtainable  I  should  have  applied  it  internally. 
During  the  night  I  awoke  times  without  number. 
Countless  curs,  that  were  to  real  dogs  what  these 
people  are  to  civilized  races,  howled  the  night  hideous, 
as  if  warning  the  village  periodically  of  some  im- 
aginary danger,  suggested  perhaps  by  the  scent  of  a 
stranger  in  their  midst.  Sometime  in  the  small  hours 
two  youths,  either  drunk  or  enamored  of  the  be- 
draggled senorita  in  the  cubbj'hole  above,  struck  up 
a  mournful,  endless  ballad  of  two  unvarying  lines, 
the  one  barely  heard,  the  other  screeching  the  eternal 
refrain  until  the  night  shuddered  with  it.  All  the 
clothing  I  possessed  was  not  enough  to  keep  me  warm 
both  above  and  below. 

One  of  the  chief  difficulties  of  the  road  in  Honduras 
is  the  impossibility  of  arousing  the  lazy  inhabitants 
in  time  to  prepare  some  suggestion  of  breakfast  at  a 
reasonably  early  hour.  For  to  set  off  without  eating 
may  be  to  fast  all  the  hot  and  laborious  da\\  The 
sun  was  already  warm  when  I  took  up  the  task  of 
picking  my  way  from  among  the  many  narrow,  red, 
labyrinthian  paths  that  scattered  over  the  hill  on 
which  San  Augustin  reposes  and  radiated  into  the 


310      TRAMPING  THROUGH  HONDURAS 

rocky,  pine-forested,  tumbled  mountain  world  sur- 
rounding it.  Some  one  had  said  the  trail  to  Santa 
Rosa  was  easy  and  comparatively  level.  But  such 
words  have  strange  meanings  in  Honduras.  Not 
once  during  the  day  did  there  appear  a  level  space 
ten  yards  in  length.  Hour  after  hour  a  narrow 
path,  one  of  a  score  in  which  to  go  astray,  worn  in 
the  whitish  rock  of  a  tumbled  and  irregular  series  of 
soft  sandstone  ridges  with  thin  forests  of  pine  or 
fir,  clambered  and  sweated  up  and  down  incessantly 
by  slopes  steeper  than  any  stairway,  until  I  felt  like 
the  overworked  chambermaid  of  a  tall  but  elevator- 
less  hotel.  My  foot  was  much  swollen,  and  to  make 
things  worse  the  region  was  arid  and  waterless. 
Once  I  came  upon  a  straggling  mud  village,  but 
though  it  was  half-hidden  by  banana  and  orange 
groves,  not  even  fruit  could  be  bought.  Yet  a  day 
or  two  before  some  scoundrel  had  passed  this  way 
eating  oranges  constantly  and  strewing  the  trail  with 
the  tantalizing  peelings ;  a  methodical,  selfish,  bour- 
geois fellow,  who  had  not  had  the  humane  careless- 
ness to  drop  a  single  fruit  on  all  his  gluttonous 
journey. 

When  I  came  at  last,  at  the  bottom  of  a  thigh- 
straining  descent,  upon  the  first  stream  of  the  day, 
it  made  up  for  the  aridity  behind,  for  the  path  had 
eluded  me  and  left  me  to  tear  through  the  jungle  and 
wade  a  quarter  mile  before  I  picked  up  the  trail 
again.     Refreshed,  I  began  a  task  before  which  I 


Iloiuluras,  the  Laiiil  of  (".real  l)('i)ths 


UPS  AND  DOWNS  OF  HONDURAS      313 

might  have  turned  back  had  I  seen  it  all  at  once. 
Four  mortal  waterless  hours  I  toiled  steeply  upward, 
more  than  twenty  times  sure  I  had  reached  the  sum- 
mit, only  to  see  the  trail,  like  some  will-o'-the-wisp, 
draw  on  ahead  unattainably  in  a  new  direction.  I 
had  certainly  ascended  four  thousand  feet  when  I 
threw  myself  down  at  last  among  the  pines  of  the 
wind-swept  summit.  A  draught  from  the  gourd  of 
a  passing  peon  gave  me  new  life  for  the  correspond- 
ing descent.  Several  of  these  fellow-roadsters  now 
appeared,  courteous  fellows,  often  with  black  mus- 
taches and  imperial  a  la  Napoleon  III,  who  raised 
their  hats  and  greeted  me  with  a  sing-song  "  Que 
se  vaya  bien,"  yet  seemed  remarkably  stupid  and 
perhaps  a  trifle  treacherous.  At  length,  well  on  in 
the  afternoon,  the  road  broke  through  a  cutting  and 
disclosed  the  welcome  sight  of  the  town  of  Santa 
Rosa,  its  white  church  bulking  above  all  else  built 
by  man ;  the  first  suggestion  of  civilization  I  had  seen 
in  Honduras. 

The  suggestion  withered  upon  closer  examination. 
The  place  did  not  know  the  meaning  of  the  word 
hotel,  there  was  neither  restaurant,  electric  light, 
wheeled  vehicles,  nor  any  of  the  hundred  and  one 
things  common  to  civilized  towns  of  like  size.  After 
long  inquiry  for  lodging,  I  was  directed  to  a  phar- 
macy. The  connection  was  not  apparent  until  I 
found  that  an  American  doctor  occupi'cd  there  a  tiny 
room  made  by  partitioning  off  with  a  strip  of  canvas 


314      TRAMPING  THROUGH  HONDURAS 

stretched  on  a  frame  a  part  of  the  public  hallway  to 
the  patio.  He  was  absent  on  his  rounds ;  which  was 
fortunate,  for  his  Cuban  interpreter  not  merely  gave 
me  possession  of  the  "  room  "  and  cot,  but  delivered 
to  me  the  doctor's  supper  of  potatoes,  rice,  an  imi- 
tation of  bread,  and  even  a  piece  of  meat,  when  it 
arrived  from  a  market-place  kitchen.  Here  I  spent 
Sunday,  with  the  extreme  lassitude  following  an  ex- 
tended tramp  in  the  hungry  wilderness.  The  doctor 
turned  up  in  the  afternoon,  an  imposing  monument 
of  a  man  from  Texas  with  a  wild  tangle  of  dark- 
brown  beard,  and  the  soft  eyes  and  gentle  manners 
of  a  girl.  He  had  spent  some  months  in  the  region, 
more  to  the  advantage  of  the  inhabitants  than  his 
own,  for  disease  was  far  more  wide  spread  than 
wealth,  and  the  latter  was  extremelj^  elusive  even 
where  it  existed.  Hookworm  was  the  second  most 
common  ailment,  with  cancer  and  miscarriages  fre- 
quent. The  entire  region  he  had  found  virtually 
given  over  to  free  love.  The  grasping  priests  made 
it  all  but  impossible  for  the  poorer  classes  to  marry, 
and  the  custom  had  rather  died  out  even  among  the 
well-to-do.  All  but  two  families  of  the  town  acknowl- 
edged Dlegitimate  children,  there  was  not  a  priest 
nor  a  youth  of  eighteen  who  had  not  several,  and 
more  than  one  widow  of  Honduranean  wealth  and 
position  whose  husband  had  long  since  died  con- 
tinued to  add  yearly  to  the  population.     The  padre 


UPS  AND  DOWNS  OF  HONDURAS      315 

of  San  Pedro,  from  whose  house  he  had  just  come, 
boasted  of  being  the  father  of  eighty  children.  All 
these  things  were  common  knowledge,  with  almost  no 
attempt  at  concealment,  and  indeed  little  notion  that 
there  might  be  anything  reprehensible  in  such  cus- 
toms. Every  one  did  it,  why  shouldn't  any  one? 
Later  experience  proved  these  conditions,  as  well  as 
nearly  90  per  cent,  of  complete  illiterac}',  common 
to  all  Honduras. 

The  only  other  industry  of  Santa  Rosa  is  the  rais- 
ing of  tobacco  and  the  making  of  a  tolerably  good 
cigar,  famed  throughout  Honduras  and  selling  here 
twenty  for  a  real.  Every  hut  and  almost  every  shop 
is  a  cigar  factory.  The  town  is  four  thousand  feet 
above  sea-level,  giving  it  a  delightful,  lazy,  satisfied- 
with-life-just-as-it-is  air  that  partly  makes  up  for 
its  ignorance,  disease,  and  unmorality.  The  popula- 
tion is  largely  Indian,  unwashed  since  birth,  and  with 
huge  hoof-like  bare  feet  devoid  of  sensation.  There 
is  also  considerable  Spanish  blood,  generally  adulter- 
ated, its  possessors  sometimes  shod  and  wearing 
nearly  white  cotton  suits  and  square  white  straw 
hats.  In  intelligence  the  entire  place  resembles  chil- 
dren without  a  child's  power  of  imitation.  Except 
for  the  snow-white  church,  the  town  is  entirely  one- 
story,  with  tile  roofs,  a  ragged  flowery  plaza,  and 
straight  streets,  sometimes  cobbled,  that  run  off  down 
hill,  for  the  place  is  built  on  a  meadowy  knoll  with  a 


316      TRAMPING  THROUGH  HONDURAS 

fine  vista  of  hOls  and  surrounded  by  an  immensely 
rich  land  that  would  grow  almost  anything  in 
abundance  with  a  minimum  of  cultivation. 

The  one  way  of  getting  an  early  start  in  Honduras 
is  to  make  your  purchases  the  night  before  and  eat 
them  raw  in  the  morning.  Christmas  day  had  barely 
dawned,  therefore,  when  I  began  losing  my  way 
among  the  undulating  white  rock  paths  be3'ond  Santa 
Rosa.  Such  a  country  brings  home  to  man  his 
helplessness  and  unimportance  before  untamed  na- 
ture. I  wished  to  be  in  Tegucigalpa,  two  hundred 
miles  away,  within  five  days ;  yet  all  the  wealth  of 
Croesus  could  not  have  brought  me  there  in  that  time. 
As  it  was,  I  had  broken  the  mule-back  record,  and 
many  is  the  animal  that  succumbs  to  the  up  and  down 
trails  of  Honduras.  This  one  might,  were  such  trite- 
ness permissible,  have  been  most  succinctly  charac- 
terized by  a  well-known  description  of  war.  It  was 
rougher  than  any  stone-quarry  pitched  at  impossible 
angles,  and  the  attraction  of  gravity  for  my  burden 
passed  belief.  To  this  I  had  been  forced  to  add  not 
merely  a  roll  of  silver  reales  but  my  Christmas  din- 
ner, built  up  about  the  nucleus  of  a  can  of  what  an- 
nounced itself  outwardly  as  pork  and  beans.  Tal- 
gua,  at  eleven,  did  not  seem  the  fitting  scene  for  so 
solemn  a  ceremony,  and  I  hobbled  on,  first  over  a 
tumble-down  stone  bridge,  then  by  a  hammock-bridge 
to  which  one  climbed  high  above  the  river  by  a 
notched  stick  and  of  which  two  thirds  of  the  cross- 


A  corner  of  Tegucigalpa 


The  "West  Pointers"  of  Honduras  in  their  barrack.-,  ;i  j)arl.  of  the 
national  palace 


UPS  AND  DOWNS  OF  HONDURAS      319 

slats  were  missing,  while  the  rest  cracked  or  broke 
under  the  185  pounds  to  which  I  subjected  them. 

I  promised  myself  to  pitch  camp  at  the  very  next 
clear  stream.  But  the  hammock-bridge  once  passed 
there  began  a  heart-breaking  climb  into  bone-dry 
hills,  rolling  with  broken  stones,  and  palpitating  with 
the  heat  of  an  unshaded  tropical  sun.  Several  times 
I  had  perished  of  thirst  before  I  came  to  a  small 
sluggish  stream,  only  to  find  its  water  deep  blue  with 
some  pollution.  In  the  end  I  was  forced  to  overlook 
this  drawback  and,  finding  a  sort  of  natural  bathtub 
among  the  blazing  rocks,  fell  upon  what  after  all 
proved  to  be  a  porkless  feast.  The  doctor's  treat- 
ment had  reduced  the  swelling  in  foot  and  ankle,  but 
the  wound  itself  was  more  painful  than  ever  and 
called  for  frequent  soaking.  In  midaftemoon  I 
passed  a  second  village,  as  somnolent  as  the  belly- 
gorged  zopilotes  that  half- jumped,  half-flew  slug- 
gishly out  of  the  way  as  I  advanced.  Here  was  a  bit 
of  fairly  flat  and  shaded  going,  with  another  pre- 
carious hammock-bridge,  then  an  endless  woods  with 
occasional  sharp  stony  descents  to  some  brawling 
but  most  welcome  stream,  with  stepping-stones  or 
without.  Thus  far  I  had  seen  barely  a  human  being 
all  the  day,  but  as  the  shades  of  evening  grew  I 
passed  several  groups  of  arrieros  who  blasted  my 
hopes  of  reaching  Gracias  that  night,  but  who  in- 
formed me  that  just  beyond  the  "  rio  grande  "  was 
a  casita  where  I  might  spend  the  night. 


320      TRAMPING  THROUGH  HONDURAS 

It  was  sunset  when  I  came  to  the  "  great  river,"  a 
broad  and  noisy  though  only  waist-deep  stream  with 
two  sheer,  yet  pine-clad  rock  cliffs  more  striking  than 
the  Palisades  of  the  Hudson.  A  crescent  moon  was 
peering  over  them  when  I  passed  the  swinging  bridge 
swaying  giddily  to  and  fro  high  above  the  stream,  but 
on  the  steep  farther  bank  it  lighted  up  only  a  cruel 
disappointment.  For  the  "  casita  "  was  nothing  but 
a  roof  on  wabbly  legs,  a  public  rest-house  where  I 
might  swing  my  hammock  but  go  famished  to  bed. 
I  pushed  on  in  quest  of  a  more  human  habitation. 
The  "  road  "  consisted  of  a  dozen  paths  shining  white 
in  the  moonlight  and  weaving  in  and  out  among  each 
other.  No  sign  of  man  appeared,  and  my  foot  pro- 
tested vehemently.  I  concluded  to  be  satisfied  with 
water  to  drink  and  let  hunger  feed  upon  itself.  But 
now  it  was  needed,  not  a  trickle  appeared.  Once  I 
fancied  I  heard  a  stream  babbling  below  and  tore  my 
way  through  the  jungle  down  a  sharp  slope,  but  I 
had  only  caught  the  echo  of  the  distant  river.  It 
was  well  on  into  the  night  when  the  welcome  sound 
again  struck  my  ear.  This  time  it  was  real,  and  I 
fought  my  way  down  through  clutching  undergrowth 
and  stone  heaps  to  a  stream,  sluggish  and  blue  in 
color,  but  welcome  for  all  that,  to  swing  my  ham- 
mock among  stone  heaps  from  two  elastic  saplings, 
for  it  was  just  my  luck  to  have  found  the  one  spot 
in  Honduras  where  there  were  no  trees  large  enough 
to  furnish  shelter.     Luckily  nothing  worse  than  a 


UPS  AND  DOWNS  OF  HONDURAS      321 

heavy  dew  fell.  Now  and  then  noisy  boisterous 
bands  of  natives  passed  along  the  trail  from  their 
Christmas  festivities  in  the  town  ahead.  But 
whereas  a  Mexican  highway  at  this  hour  would  have 
been  overrun  with  drunken  peons  more  or  less  dan- 
gerous to  "  gringoes,"  drink  seemed  to  have  made 
these  chiefly  amorous.  Still  I  took  good  care  to  ar- 
range myself  for  the  night  quietly,  if  only  to  be  able 
to  sleep  undisturbed.  Once,  somewhere  in  the  dark- 
est hours,  a  drove  of  cattle  stampeded  down  the  slope 
near  me,  but  even  as  I  reached  for  my  weapon  I 
found  it  was  not  the  band  of  peons  from  a  dream  of 
which  I  had  awakened.  The  spot  was  some  1500  feet 
lower  than  Santa  Rosa,  but  still  so  sharp  and  pene- 
trating is  the  chill  of  night  in  this  region  in  contrast 
to  the  blazing,  sweating  days  that  I  did  not  sleep  a 
moment  soundly  after  the  first  hour  of  evening. 

An  hour's  walk  next  morning  brought  me  to 
Gracias,  a  slovenly,  nothing-to-do-but-stare  hamlet 
of  a  few  hundred  inhabitants.  After  I  had  eaten  all 
the  chief  hut  could  supply,  I  set  about  looking  for  the 
shoemaker  my  already  aged  Guatemalan  Oxfords 
needed  so  badly.  I  found  the  huts  where  several  of 
them  lived,  but  not  where  any  of  them  worked.  The 
first  replied  from  his  hammock  that  he  was  sick,  the 
second  had  gone  to  Tegucigalpa,  the  third  was 
"  somewhere  about  town  if  you  have  the  patience  to 
wait."  Which  I  did  for  an  hour  or  more,  and  was 
rewarded  with  his  turning  up  to  inform  me  that  he 


32a      TRAMPING  THROUGH  HONDURAS 

was  not  planning  to  begin  his  labors  again  so  soon, 
for  only  yesterday  had  been  Christmas. 

Over  the  first  hill  and  river  beyond,  I  fell  in  with 
a  woman  who  carried  on  an  unbroken  conversation 
as  well  as  a  load  on  her  head,  from  the  time  she  ac- 
cepted the  first  cigar  until  we  had  waded  the  thigh- 
deep  "  rio  grande  "  and  climbed  the  rocky  bank  to 
her  hut  and  garden.  At  first  she  had  baldly  refused 
to  allow  her  picture  to  be  taken.  But  so  weak-willed 
are  these  people  of  Honduras  that  a  white  man  of 
patience  can  in  time  force  them  to  do  his  bidding  by 
sheer  force  of  will,  by  merely  looking  long  and  fixedly 
at  them.  Many  the  "  gringo  "  who  has  misused  this 
power  in  Central  America.  Before  we  reached  her 
home  she  had  not  only  posed  but  insisted  on  my 
stopping  to  photograph  her  with  her  children 
"  dressed  up  "  as  befitted  so  extraordinary  an  occa- 
sion. Her  garden  was  unusually  well  supplied  with 
fruit  and  vegetables,  and  the  rice  boiled  in  milk  she 
served  was  the  most  savory  dish  I  had  tasted  in  Hon- 
duras. She  refused  payment,  but  insisted  on  my 
waiting  until  the  muleteers  she  had  charged  for  their 
less  sumptuous  dinner  were  gone,  so  they  should  not 
discover  her  unpatriotic  favoritism. 

During  the  afternoon  there  was  for  a  time  almost 
level  going,  grassy  and  soft,  across  gently  dipping 
meadows  on  which  I  left  both  mule-trains  and  pe- 
destrians behind.  Houses  were  rare,  and  the  fall 
of  night  threatened  to  leave  me  alone  among  vast 


View  of  Tegucigalpa  from  the  top  of  Picacho 


Repairing  the  highway  from  Tegucigali)a  to  the  coast 


UPS  AND  DOWNS  OF  HONDURAS      325 

whining  pine  forests  where  the  air  was  already  chilh 
In  the  dusk,  however,  I  came  upon  the  hut  of  Pablo 
Morales  and  bespoke  posada.  He  growled  a  surly 
permission  and  addressed  hardly  a  word  to  me  for 
hours  thereafter.  The  place  was  the  most  filthy, 
quarrelsome,  pig  and  chicken  overrun  stop  on  the 
trip,  and  when  at  last  I  prepared  to  swing  my  ham- 
mock inside  the  hut  the  sulky  host  informed  me  that 
he  only  permitted  travelers  the  corredor.  Two  other 
guests  —  ragged,  soil-encrusted  arrieros  —  were  al- 
ready housed  within,  but  there  were  at  least  some  ad- 
vantages in  swinging  my  own  net  outside  from  the 
rafters  of  the  eaves.  Pigs  jolted  against  me  now  and 
then  and  before  I  had  entirely  fallen  asleep  I  was  dis- 
turbed by  a  procession  of  dirty  urchins,  each  carry- 
ing a  blazing  pine  stick,  who  came  one  by  one  to  look 
me  over.  I  was  just  settling  down  again  when  Pablo 
himself  appeared,  an  uncanny  figure  in  the  dancing 
light  of  his  flaming  torch.  He  had  heard  that  I 
could  "  put  people  on  paper,"  and  would  I  put  his 
wife  on  paper  in  return  for  his  kindness  in  giving  me 
posada.''  Yes,  in  the  morning.  Why  couldn't  I  do 
it  now.f*  He  seemed  strangely  eager,  for  a  man  ac- 
customed to  set  maiiana  as  his  own  time  of  action. 
His  surly  indifference  had  changed  to  an  annoying 
solicitude,  and  he  forced  upon  me  first  a  steaming 
tortilla,  then  a  native  beverage,  and  finally  came  with 
a  large  cloth  hammock  in  which  I  passed  the  night 
more  comfortably  than  in  my  own  open-work  net. 


326      TRAMPING  THROUGH  HONDURAS 

In  the  morning  heavy  mountain  clouds  and  a 
swirling  mist  made  photography  impossible,  but  my 
host  was  not  of  the  grade  of  intelligence  that  made 
this  simple  explanation  possible.  He  led  the  way 
into  the  windowless  hut,  in  a  corner  of  which  lay  a 
woman  of  perhaps  thirty  in  a  dog-litter  of  a  bed  en- 
closed by  curtains  hung  from  the  rafters.  The  walls 
were  black  with  coagulated  smoke.  The  woman, 
yellow  and  emaciated  with  months  of  fever,  groaned 
distressingly  as  the  curtains  were  drawn  aside,  but 
her  solicitous  husband  insisted  on  propping  her  up  in 
bed  and  holding  her  with  an  arm  about  the  shoulders 
while  I  "  put  them  both  on  paper."  His  purpose,  it 
turned  out,  was  to  send  the  picture  to  the  shrine  of 
"  la  Virgen  de  los  Remedios  "  that  she  might  cure  the 
groaning  wife  of  her  ailment,  and  he  insisted  that  it 
must  show  "  bed  and  all  and  the  color  of  her  face  " 
that  the  Virgin  might  know  what  was  required  of  her. 
I  went  through  the  motions  of  taking  a  photograph 
and  explained  as  well  as  was  possible  why  it  could  not 
be  delivered  at  once,  with  the  added  information  to 
soften  his  coming  disappointment  that  the  machine 
sometimes  failed.  The  fellow  merely  gathered  the 
notion  that  I  was  but  a  sorry  magician  at  best,  who 
had  my  diabolical  hocuspocus  only  imperfectly  under 
control,  and  he  did  not  entirely  succeed  in  keeping 
his  sneers  invisible.  I  offered  quinine  and  such  other 
medicines  as  were  to  be  found  in  my  traveling  case, 
but  he  had  no  faith  in  worldly  remedies. 


TC/i  >-•  i 


A  family  of  Honduras 


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Approaching  Sabana  (iraiulc,  the  first  night's  stop  on  tlio  tramp  to 

the  coast 


UPS  AND  DOWNS  OF  HONDURAS      329 

By  nine  the  day  was  brilliant.  There  was  an  un- 
usual amount  of  level  grassy  trail,  though  steep 
slopes  were  not  lacking.  During  the  morning  I 
passed  several  bands  of  ragged  soldiers  meandering 
northward  in  rout  order  and  some  distance  behind 
them  their  bedraggled  women  and  children,  all  afoot 
and  carrying  their  entire  possessions  on  their  heads 
and  backs.  Frequently  a  little  wooden  cross  or  a 
heap  of  stones  showed  where  some  traveler  had  fallen 
by  the  wayside,  perhaps  at  the  hands  of  his  fellow- 
man  ;  for  the  murder  rate,  thanks  largely  to  drink 
and  vendettas,  is  high  in  Honduras.  It  might  be  less 
if  assassins  faced  the  death  penalty,  instead  of  being 
merely  shut  Avithin  prisons  from  which  an  active  man 
could  soon  dig  his  way  to  freedom  with  a  pocket- 
knife,  if  he  did  not  have  the  patience  to  wait  a  few 
months  until  a  new  revolution  brought  him  release 
or  pardon. 

The  futility  of  Honduranean  life  was  illustrated 
here  and  there.  On  some  vast  hillside  capable  of  pro- 
ducing food  for  a  multitude  the  eye  made  out  a  single 
mUpa,  or  tiny  corn-field,  fenced  off  with  huge  slabs 
of  mahogany  worth  easily  ten  times  all  the  corn  the 
patch  could  produce  In  a  lifetime  —  or  rather,  worth 
nothing  whatever,  for  a  thing  is  valuable  only  where 
it  is  in  demand.  At  ten  I  lost  the  way,  found  it 
again,  and  began  an  endless,  rock-strewn  climb  up- 
ward through  pines,  tacking  more  times  than  I  could 
count,  each  leg  of  the  ascent  a  toilsome  journey  in 


330      TRAMPING  THROUGH  HONDURAS 

itself.  Not  the  least  painful  of  road  experiences  in 
Honduras  is  to  reach  the  summit  of  such  a  range 
after  hours  of  heavy  labor,  to  take  perhaps  a  dozen 
steps  along  the  top  of  the  ridge,  and  then  find  the 
trail  pitching  headlong  down  again  into  a  bottomless 
gorge,  from  which  comes  up  the  joyous  sound  of  a 
mountain  stream  that  draws  the  thirsty  traveler  on 
at  double  speed,  only  to  bring  him  at  last  to  a  rude 
bridge  over  a  precipitous,  rock-sided  river  impossible 
to  reach  before  attacking  the  next  slope  staring  him 
in  the  face. 

Luckily  I  foraged  an  imitation  dinner  in  San  Juan, 
a  scattering  of  mud  huts  on  a  broad  upland  plain, 
most  of  the  adult  inhabitants  of  which  were  away 
at  some  work  or  play  in  the  surrounding  hills. 
Cattle  without  number  dotted  the  patches  of  unlevel 
meadows,  but  not  a  drop  of  milk  was  to  be  had. 
Roosters  would  have  made  the  night  a  torture,  yet 
three  eggs  rewarded  the  canvassing  of  the  entire 
hamlet.  These  it  is  always  the  Honduranean  cus- 
tom to  puncture  with  a  small  hole  before  dropping 
into  hot  water,  no  doubt  because  there  was  no  other 
way  of  getting  the  universal  uncleanliness  into  them. 
Nor  did  I  ever  succeed  in  getting  them  more  than 
half  cooked.  Once  I  offered  an  old  woman  an  extra 
real  if  she  would  boil  them  a  full  three  minutes  with- 
out puncturing  them.  She  asserted  that  without  a 
hole  in  the  end  "  the  water  could  not  get  in  to  cook 
them,"  but  at  length  solemnly  promised  to  follow  my 


UPS  AND  DOWNS  OF  HONDURAS      331 

orders  implicitly.  When  the  eggs  reappeared  they 
were  as  raw  as  ever,  though  somewhat  warm,  and  each 
had  its  little  punctured  hole.  I  took  the  cook  to  task 
and  she  assured  me  vociferously  that  "  they  broke 
themselves."  Apparently  there  was  some  supersti- 
tion connected  with  the  matter  which  none  dared 
violate.  At  any  rate  I  never  succeeded  in  being 
served  un-holed  eggs  in  all  rural  Honduras. 

Not  only  have  these  people  of  the  wilderness  next 
to  nothing  to  eat,  but  they  are  too  indolent  to  learn 
to  cook  what  they  have.  The  thick,  doughy  tor- 
tillas and  half-boiled  black  beans,  accompanied  by 
black,  unstrained  coffee  with  dirty  crude  sugar  and 
without  milk,  were  not  merely  monotonous,  but 
would  have  been  fatal  to  civilized  man  of  sedentary 
habits.  Only  the  constant  toil  and  sweat,  and  the 
clear  water  of  mountain  stream  offset  somewhat  the 
evil  effects  under  which  even  a  horseman  would  prob- 
ably have  succumbed.  The  inhabitants  of  the  Hon- 
duranean  wilds  are  distinctly  less  human  in  their 
habits  than  the  wild  men  of  the  Malay  Peninsula. 
For  the  latter  at  least  build  floors  of  split  bamboo 
above  the  ground.  W^ithout  exaggeration  the  peo- 
ple of  this  region  were  more  uncleanly  than  their 
gaunt  and  yellow  curs,  for  the  latter  carefully  picked 
a  spot  to  lie  in  while  the  human  beings  threw  them- 
selves down  anywhere  and  nonchalantly  motioned  to 
a  guest  to  sit  down  or  drop  his  bundle  among  fresh 
offal.     They  literally  never  washed,  except  by  acci- 


332      TRAMPING  THROUGH  HONDURAS 

dent,  and  handled  food  and  filth  alternately  with  a 
child-like  blandness. 

I  was  just  preparing  to  leave  San  Juan  when  a 
woman  came  from  a  neighboring  hut  to  request 
my  assistance  at  a  child-birth!  In  this  region  all 
"  gringoes  "  have  the  reputation  of  being  physicians, 
and  the  inhabitants  will  not  be  undeceived.  I  forci- 
bl}^  tore  myself  away  and  struck  for  the  surrounding 
wilderness. 

From  soon  after  noon  until  sunset  I  climbed  in- 
cessantly among  tumbled  rocks  without  seeing  a 
human  being.  A  cold  wind  howled  through  a  vast 
pine  forest  of  the  highest  altitude  of  my  Hon- 
duranean  journey  —  more  than  six  thousand  feet 
above  sea-level.  Night  fell  in  wild  solitude,  but  I 
could  only  plod  on,  for  to  sleep  out  at  this  height 
would  have  been  dangerous.  Luckily  a  corner  of 
moon  lighted  up  weirdly  a  moderately  wide  trail.  I 
had  tramped  an  hour  or  more  into  the  night  when  a 
flickering  light  ahead  among  the  trees  showed  what 
might  have  been  a  camp  of  bandits,  but  which  proved 
to  be  only  that  of  a  group  of  muleteers,  who  had 
stacked  their  bales  of  merchandise  around  three  sides 
under  an  ancient  roof  on  poles  and  rolled  up  in  their 
blankets  close  to  the  blazing  wood  fire  they  had  built 
to  the  leeward  of  it. 

They  gave  no  sign  of  offering  me  place  and  I 
marched  on  into  the  howling  night.  Perhaps  four 
miles  beyond  I  made  out  a   cluster  of  habitations 


A  beef  just  butchered  and  hung  out  in  the  sun 


A  dwelhng  un  tlie  hut  lanils  of  the  coast,  and  its  scantilj'  clad  in- 
habitants 


UPS  AND  DOWNS  OF  HONDURAS      335 

pitched  on  the  summit  and  slope  of  a  hill  leaning 
toward  the  trail  with  nothing  above  it  on  any  side 
to  break  the  raging  wind.  An  uproar  of  barking 
dogs  greeted  my  arrival,  and  it  was  some  time  before 
an  inmate  of  one  of  the  dark  and  silent  huts  sum- 
moned up  courage  to  peer  out  upon  me.  He  emerged 
armed  with  a  huge  stick  and  led  the  way  to  a  miser- 
able hovel  on  the  hilltop,  where  he  beat  on  the  door 
and  called  out  that  an  "  hombrecito  "  sought  posada. 
This  opened  at  last  and  I  entered  a  mud  room  in  one 
end  of  which  a  fire  of  sticks  blazed  fitfull3\  A  woman 
of  perhaps  forty,  though  appearing  much  older,  as 
is  the  case  with  most  women  of  Honduras,  lay  on  a 
wooden  bed  and  a  girl  of  ten  huddled  among  rags 
near  the  fire.  I  asked  for  food  and  the  woman  or- 
dered the  girl  to  heat  me  black  coffee  and  tortillas. 
The  child  was  naked  to  the  waist,  though  the  bitter 
cold  wind  howled  with  force  through  the  hut,  the 
walls  and  especially  the  gables  and  roof  of  which  were 
far  from  whole.  The  woman  complained  of  great 
pain  in  her  right  leg,  and  knowing  she  would  other- 
wise groan  and  howl  the  night  through  in  the  hope 
of  attracting  the  Virgin's  attention,  I  induced  her  to 
swallow  two  sedative  pills.  The  smoke  made  me  weep 
as  I  swung  my  hammock  from  two  soot-blackened 
rafters,  but  the  ^e  soon  went  out  and  I  awoke  from 
the  first  doze  shivering  until  the  hut  shook.  The 
temperature  was  not  low  compared  with  our  northern 
winters,  but  the  wind  carried  a  penetrating  chill  that 


336      TRAMPING  THROUGH  HONDURAS 

reached  the  marrow  of  the  bones.  I  rose  and  tried 
unsuccessfully  to  relight  the  fire.  The  half-naked 
girl  proved  more  skilful  and  I  sat  huddled  on  a  stool 
over  the  fire,  alternately  weeping  with  the  smoke  and 
all  but  falling  into  the  blaze  as  I  dozed.  The  pills 
had  little  effect  on  my  hostess.  I  gave  her  three 
more,  but  her  Honduranean  stomach  was  evidently 
zinc-lined  and  she  groaned  and  moaned  incessantly. 
I  returned  to  my  hammock  and  spent  several  dream- 
months  at  the  North  Pole  before  I  was  awakened  at 
first  cockcrow  by  the  old  woman  kneeling  on  the 
earth  floor  before  a  lithograph  of  the  Virgin  sur- 
rounded by  withered  pine  branches,  wailing  a  sing- 
song prayer.  She  left  off  at  length  with  the  informa- 
tion that  her  only  hope  of  relief  was  to  make  a 
pilgrimage  to  the  "  Virgen  de  los  Remedios,"  and  or- 
dered the  girl  to  prepare  coffee.  I  paid  my  bill  of 
two  reales  and  gave  the  girl  one  for  herself,  evidently 
the  largest  sum  she  had  ever  possessed,  if  indeed  she 
remained  long  in  possession  of  it  after  I  took  my 
hobbling  and  shivering  departure. 

A  cold  and  wind-swept  hour,  all  stifHy  up  or  down, 
brought  me  to  Esperanza,  near  which  I  saw  the  first 
wheeled  vehicle  of  Honduras,  a  contraption  of  solid 
wooden  wheels  behind  gaunt  little  oxen  identical  with 
those  of  northwest  Spain  even  to  the  excruciating 
scream  of  its  greascless  axle.  In  the  outskirts  two 
ragged,  hoof-footed  soldiers  sprang  up  from  behind 


Ms'    i: 


UPS  AND  DOWNS  OF  HONDURAS      339 

the  bushes   of  a  hillside  and  came  down  upon  me, 
waving  their  muskets  and  screaming: 

"  A'onde  va?     D'onde  viene?     Have  you  a  pass 
to  go  through  our  department?  " 

"  Yes,  from  your  consul  in  Guatemala." 
They  did  not  ask  to  read  it,  perhaps  for  a  reason, 
but  permitted  me  to  pass ;  to  my  relief,  for  the  old 
woman  had  announced  that  smallpox  was  raging  in 
her  town  of  Yamaranguila  and  its  people  were  not 
allowed  to  enter  Esperanza.  This  proved  to  be  a 
place  of  considerable  size,  of  large  huts  scattered 
over  a  broad  grassy  plain  in  a  sheltered  valley,  with 
perhaps  five  thousand  inhabitants  but  not  a  touch  of 
civilization.  Crowds  of  boys  and  dirty  ragged 
soldiers  followed  me,  grinning  and  throwing  salacious 
comments  as  I  wandered  from  house  to  house  try- 
ing to  buy  food.  At  a  corner  of  the  plaza  the  co- 
mandante  called  to  me  from  his  hut.  I  treated  him 
with  the  haughty  air  of  a  superior,  with  frequent 
reference  to  my  "  orders  from  the  government,"  and 
he  quickly  subsided  from  patronizing  insolence  to 
humility  and  sent  a  soldier  to  lead  me  to  "  where  food 
is  prepared  for  strangers."  Two  ancient  crones, 
pottering  about  a  mud  stove  in  an  open-work  reed 
kitchen  through  which  the  mountain  wind  swept  chill- 
ingly, half-cooked  an  enormous  slab  of  veal,  boiled 
a  pot  of  the  ubiquitous  black  coffee,  and  scraped  to- 
gether a  bit  of  stale  bread,  or  more  exactly  cake. 


340      TRAMPING  THROUGH  HONDURAS 

for  pan  dulce  was  the  only  species  that  the  town 
afforded.  A  dish  of  tomatoes  of  the  size  of  small 
cherries  proved  far  more  appetizing,  after  they  had 
been  well  washed,  but  the  astonishment  with  which 
the  aged  pair  watched  me  eat  them  suggested  that  the 
tradition  that  held  this  fruit  poison  still  reigns  in 
Esperanza. 

Back  once  more  in  the  coraandancia  I  resolved  to 
repay  the  soldiers  scattered  about  town  for  their 
insolence  in  the  one  way  painful  to  the  Honduranean 
—  by  making  them  exert  themselves.  Displaying 
again  my  "  government  order,"  I  demanded  a  photo- 
graph of  the  garrison  of  Esperanza  with  the 
comandante,  its  generals,  colonels,  lieutenants,  and 
all  the  lesser  fry  at  the  head ;  and  an  imperative  com- 
mand soon  brought  the  entire  force  of  fifty  or  more 
hurrying  barefoot  and  startled,  their  ancient  muskets 
under  their  arms,  from  the  four  somnolent  corners 
of  the  city.  I  kept  them  manoeuvering  a  half-hour  or 
so,  ostensibly  for  photographic  reasons,  while  all  the 
populace  looked  on,  and  the  reos,  or  department  pris- 
oners in  their  chains,  formed  a  languid  group  lean- 
ing on  their  shovels  at  the  edge  of  the  plaza  waiting 
until  their  guards  should  be  returned  to  them. 

At  ten  I  reshouldered  my  stuff  and  marched  out 
in  a  still  cold,  cloudy,  upland  day,  the  wondering  in- 
habitants of  Esperanza  staring  awe-stricken  after  me 
until  I  disappeared  from  view.  A  few  miles  out  I 
met  two  pure  Indians,  carrying  oranges  in  nets  on 


UPS  AND  DOWNS  OF  HONDURAS      34.1 

their  backs,  the  supporting  strap  across  their  fore- 
heads. To  my  question  they  admitted  the  fruit  was 
for  sale,  though  it  is  by  no  means  uncommon  in 
Central  America  for  countrymen  to  refuse  to  sell 
on  the  road  produce  they  are  carrying  to  town  for 
that  purpose.  I  asked  for  a  real's  worth.  Luckily 
they  misunderstood,  for  the  price  was  "  two  hands 
for  a  medio,"  and  as  it  was  I  had  to  leave  lying  on  the 
grass  several  of  the  ten  fine  large  oranges  one  of  the 
aborigines  had  counted  on  his  fingers  and  accepted 
a  two-and-a-half  cent  piece  for  with  a  "  Muchas 
gracias,  amigo."  Farther  on  I  met  scores  of  these 
short,  thick-set  Indians,  of  both  sexes  and  all  ages, 
straining  along  over  mountain  trails  for  forty  or  fifty 
miles  from  their  colonies  to  town  each  with  at  most 
a  hundred  and  fifty  oranges  they  would  there 
scarcely  sell  for  so  high  a  price. 

Beyond  a  fordable,  ice-cold  stream  a  fairly  good 
road  changed  to  an  atrocious  mountain  trail  in  a 
labyrinth  of  tumbled  pine-clad  ridges  and  gullies, 
on  which  I  soon  lost  my  way  in  a  drizzling  rain.  The 
single  telegraph  wire  came  to  my  rescue,  jumping 
lightly  from  moss-grown  stick  to  tall  slender  tree- 
trunk  across  vast  chasms  down  into  and  out  of  which 
I  had  to  slip  and  slide  and  stumble  pantingly  upward 
in  pursuit.  Before  dark  I  was  delighted  to  fall  upon 
a  trail  again,  though  not  with  its  condition,  for  it 
was  generally  perpendicular  and  always  thick  with 
loose    stones.     A    band    of    arrieros    cooking    their 


342      TRAMPING  THROUGH  HONDURAS 

scanty  supper  under  a  shelter  tent  asserted  there 
were  houses  some  two  leagues  on,  but  for  hours  I 
hobbled  over  mountains  of  pure  stone,  my  maltreated 
feet  wincing  at  every  step,  without  verifying  the 
assertion.  Often  the  descents  were  so  steep  I  had  to 
pick  each  footstep  carefully  in  the  darkness,  and 
more  than  one  climb  required  the  assistance  of  my 
hands.  A  swift  stream  all  but  swept  me  off  my  feet, 
and  in  the  stony  climb  beyond  I  lost  both  trail  and 
telegraph  wire  and,  after  floundering  about  for  some 
time  in  a  swamp,  was  forced  to  halt  and  swing  my 
hammock  between  two  saplings  under  enormous  sheer 
cliffs  that  looked  like  great  medieval  castles  in  the 
night,  their  white  faces  spotted  by  the  trees  that 
found  foothold  on  them.  Happily  I  had  dropped 
well  down  out  of  the  clouds  that  hover  about  Esper- 
anza  and  the  cold  mountain  wind  was  now  much  tem- 
pered. The  white  mountain  wall  rising  sheer  from 
my  very  hips  was  also  somewhat  sheltering,  though 
it  was  easy  to  dream  of  rocks  being  dropped  from 
aloft  upon  me. 

I  had  clambered  a  steep  and  rocky  three  hours 
next  morning  before  I  came  upon  the  first  evidences 
of  humanity,  a  hut  on  a  little  tableland,  with  all  the 
customary  appurtenances  and  uncleanliness.  Black 
unstrained  coffee  and  tortillas  of  j^ellow  hue  grad- 
ually put  strength  enough  to  my  legs  to  enable  them 
to  push  me  on  through  bottomless  rocky  barrancas, 
and  at  length,  beyond  the  hamlet  of  Santa  Maria, 


UPS  AND  DOWNS  OF  HONDURAS      343 

up  one  of  the  highest  climbs  of  the  trip  to  the  long 
crest  of  a  ridge  thick  with  whispering  pines  and  with 
splendid  views  of  the  "  Great  Depths,"  dense  in  wood- 
land, on  either  side  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach. 
Muleteers  passed  frequently,  often  carrying  on  their 
own  backs  a  bundle  of  the  Santa  Rosa  cigars  with 
which  their  animals  were  laden.  Except  for  her 
soldiers,  accustomed  to  "  show  off  "  before  their  fel- 
lows, every  person  I  had  met  in  Honduras  had  been 
kindly  and  courteous  —  if  dirty  —  and  never  with 
a  hint  of  coveting  my  meager  hoard.  Beggars  seemed 
as  unknown  as  robbers  —  perhaps  from  lack  of  in- 
itiative and  energy.  From  Esperanza  on,  the  Indian 
boys  I  met  driving  mules  or  carrj'ing  nets  of  oranges 
all  folded  their  hands  before  them  like  a  Buddhist 
at  prayer  when  they  approached  me,  but  instead  of 
mumbling  some  request  for  alms,  as  I  expected,  they 
greeted  me  with  an  almost  obsequious  "  Adios  "  and 
a  faint  smile.  How  the  "  little  red  schoolhouse  "  is 
lacking  in  this  wooded  mountainland !  Not  merely 
was  the  immense  majority  entirely  illiterate,  but  very 
few  of  them  had  even  reached  the  stage  of  desiring 
to  learn.  A  paucity  of  intelligence  and  initiative 
made  all  intercourse  monotonously  the  same.  The 
greeting  was  never  a  hearty,  individual  phrase  of  the 
speaker's  own  choosing,  but  always  the  invariable 
"  Adios,  Buenos  dias,  tardes  or  noche,"  even  though 
I  had  already  addressed  some  inquiry  to  them.  Re- 
plies to  questions  of  distance  were  as  stereotyped, 


3U      TRAMPING  THROUGH  HONDURAS 

with  the  diminutive  ito  beloved  of  the  Central  Ameri- 
cans tacked  on  wherever  possible : 

"  Larguita  'sta  1  A  la  vueltita  no  mas !  Esta 
cerquita !  De  dia  no  llega !  A  la  tardecita  llcga. 
Ay  no  masito !     A  la  oracioncita  llcga  — " 

Nothing  could  bring  them  down  from  these  glit- 
tering generalities  to  a  definite  statement  of  distance, 
in  leagues  or  hours,  and  to  reach  a  place  reported 
"  Just  around  the  little  corner  "  was  as  apt  to  mean 
a  half  day's  tramp  as  that  it  was  over  the  next  knoll. 

In  the  aldea  of  Tutule  I  fell  in  with  Alberto  Suaza, 
a  pleasant  appearing,  all  but  white  Honduranean, 
who  had  once  been  in  the  army  and  was  now  returning 
on  horseback  from  some  government  errand.  The 
hamlet  slumbered  on  a  slope  of  a  little  leaning  valley 
backed  by  a  wooded  mountain  ridge,  all  but  a  few 
of  the  inhabitants  being  engaged  in  coffee  culture  in 
the  communal  tract  up  over  the  hill  when  we  arrived. 
Suaza  picketed  his  diminutive  animal  before  the  hut 
of  a  friend,  in  which  we  shared  two  eggs  and  coffee 
and  turned  in  together.  Unfortunately  I  let  my 
companion  persuade  me  against  my  better  judgment 
to  lay  aside  my  hammock  and  sleep  on  his  "  bed,"  a 
sun-dried  ox-hide  thrown  on  the  earth  floor,  on  my 
side  of  which,  "  because  he  was  more  used  to  hard 
beds  than  those  sefiores  gringoes,"  he  spread  most 
of  the  colclion  (mattress)  — which  consisted  of  two 
empty  grainsacks.  Either  these  or  the  painfully 
thin  blanket  over  us  housed  a  nimble  breed  I  had 


UPS  AND  DOWNS  OF  HONDURAS      345 

miraculously  escaped  thus  far  on  the  journey,  rob- 
bing me  of  the  much-needed  sleep  the  incessant  bark- 
ing of  a  myriad  of  dogs,  the  itching  of  mosquito  bites, 
the  rhinoceros-like  throat-noises  of  the  family,  and 
the  rock  hardness  of  the  floor  would  probably  other- 
wise have  pilfered.  The  man  of  the  house  had 
stripped  stark  naked  and,  wrapping  a  red  blanket 
about  him,  lay  down  on  a  bare  wooden  bed  to  pass 
the  night  apparently  in  perfect  comfort.  Soft  mor- 
tals indeed  are  we  of  civilized  and  upholstered  lands. 

Suaza  made  no  protest  when  I  paid  the  bill  for 
both,  and  by  seven  we  were  off,  he  riding  his  tiny 
horse  until  we  w-ere  out  of  sight  of  the  town,  then 
dismounting  to  lead  it  the  rest  of  the  day.  He  had 
announced  himself  the  possessor  of  an  immensely 
rich  aunt  on  whose  hacienda  we  should  stop  for 
"  breakfast,"  and  promised  we  should  spend  the  night 
either  in  the  gold  mine  of  which  she  was  a  chief  stock- 
holder or  at  her  home  in  La  Paz,  which  I  gathered  to 
be  a  great  mansion  filled  with  all  the  gleanings  of  that 
lady's  many  trips  to  Europe  and  the  States.  I  had 
long  since  learned  the  Latin  American's  love  of  per- 
sonal exaggeration.  But  Suaza  was  above  the  Hon- 
duranean  average;  he  not  only  read  with  compara- 
tive ease  but  cleaned  his  finger  nails,  and  I  looked  for- 
ward with  some  eagerness  to  a  coming  oasis  of  civ- 
ilization in  the  hitherto  unsoftened  wilderness. 

It  was  an  ideal  day  for  tramping,  cloudy  yet 
bright,  with   a  strong  fresh  wind  almost  too  cold 


346      TRAMPING  THROUGH  HONDURAS 

for  sitting  still  and  across  a  country  green  and  fra- 
grant with  endless  forest,  and  after  the  climb  back 
of  Tutule  little  more  than  rolling.  It  was  noon  be- 
fore we  came  upon  the  new  mud-and-tiled  house  of 
the  cattle-tender  of  "  dear  aunty's  "  hacienda,  and 
though  the  meal  we  enjoyed  there  was  savory  by 
Honduranean  standards,  it  was  not  so  completely 
Parisian  as  I  had  permitted  myself  to  anticipate. 
That  I  was  allowed  to  pay  for  it  proved  nothing, 
for  the  employees  of  the  wealthy  frequently  show  no 
aversion  to  accepting  personal  favors. 

Not  far  beyond  we  came  out  on  the  edge  of  a 
tableland  with  a  splendid  view  of  the  valley  of 
Comayagua,  far  below,  almost  dead  level,  some  ten 
miles  wide  and  thirty  long,  deep  green  everywhere, 
with  cloud  shadows  giving  beautiful  color  effects 
across  it  in  the  jumble  of  green  mountains  with 
the  purple  tinge  of  distance  beyond  which  lay 
Tegucigalpa.  At  the  same  time  there  began  the 
most  laborious  descent  of  the  journey,  an  utterly  dry 
mountain  face  pitched  at  an  acute  angle  and  made 
up  completely  of  loose  rock,  down  which  we  must 
pick  every  step  and  often  use  our  hands  to  keep  from 
landing  with  broken  bones  at  the  bottom.  The  new 
buildings  of  the  mine  were  in  plain  sight  almost 
directly  below  us  from  the  beginning,  yet  we  were 
a  full  two  hours  in  zigzagging  by  short  legs  straight 
down  the  loose-stone  slope  to  them.     The  American 


■'^^^'  -MJ/   -,\ 


sf    . 


fiMi^-^^'j^^^^- '  i'  \ 


,9^- 


,^* 


The  mozo  pauses  for  ;i  drink  uu  the  trail 


One  way  of  transporting  merchandise  from  the  coast  to  Tegucigalpa 


UPS  AND  DOWNS  OF  HONDURAS      349 

manager  was  absent,  but  in  the  general  store  of  the 
company  I  had  not  only  the  pleasure  of  spending  an 
hour  in  the  first  thoroughly'  clean  building  I  had  seen 
in  Honduras,  but  of  speaking  English,  for  the  two 
Negro  youths  in  charge  of  the  place  were  natives  of 
Belize,  or  British  Honduras,  and  were  equally  fluent 
in  my  own  tongue  or  Spanish,  while  their  superiority 
in  personal  condition  over  the  natives  was  a  sad  com- 
mentary on  the  boasted  advantage  of  the  republican 
form  of  government. 

The  thirsty,  rock-sown  descent  continued,  bring- 
ing us  at  last  with  aching  thighs  to  the  level  of  the 
vast  valley,  more  than  four  thousand  feet  below  the 
lodging-places  of  the  few  da3^s  past.  Suaza  mounted 
his  horse  and  prepared  to  enter  his  native  La  Paz 
in  style.  So  often  had  king! 3'  quarters  promised  me 
by  the  self-styled  sons  of  wealth  in  Latin  America 
gradually  degenerated  to  the  monotonous  tortilla 
level  of  general  conditions  that  I  had  not  been  able 
entirely  to  disabuse  myself  of  an  expectation  of  dis- 
appointment. Such  enough,  where  the  trail  broke 
up  into  a  score  of  paths  among  mud  huts  and  pig 
wallows,  my  companion  paused  in  the  dark  to  say : 

**  Perhaps  after  all  it  will  be  better  to  take  you 
right  to  my  house  for  to-night.  One  always  feels 
freer  in  one's  father's  house.  My  aunt  might  be 
holding  some  social  affair,  or  be  sick  or  —  But  we 
will  surely  call  at  her  mansion  to-morrow,  and  — " 


350      TRAMPING  THROUGH  HONDURAS 

"  Como  usted  quiera?  "  I  answered,  swallowing  my 
disappointment.  At  least  his  father's  house  should 
be  something  above  the  ordinary. 

But  to  my  astonishment  we  stopped  a  bit  farther 
on  in  the  suburbs  before  one  of  the  most  miserable 
mud  hovels  it  had  been  my  misfortune  to  run  across 
in  Honduras,  swarming  with  pigs,  yellow  curs,  and 
all  the  multitudinous  filth  and  disarray  indigenous 
to  the  country.  The  coldest  of  welcomes  greeted 
us,  the  frowsy,  white-bearded  father  in  the  noisome 
doorway  replying  to  the  son's  query  of  why  there 
was  no  light  with  a  crabbed : 

"  If  you  want  light  why  don't  you  come  in  the  day- 
time?" 

My  companion  told. a  boy  of  the  family  to  go  buy 
a  candle,  and  his  scrawny,  unkempt  mother  bounded 
out  of  the  hut  with  the  snarl  of  a  miser ; 

**  What  do  you  want  a  candle  for?  " 

The  boy  refused  to  go  and  Suaza  tied  his  horse 
to  a  bush  and  went  in  quest  of  one  himself.  I  men- 
tioned supper,  hinting  at  my  willingness  to  pay  for 
anything  that  could  be  furnished,  but  to  each  article 
I  suggested  came  the  monotonous,  indifferent  Hon- 
duranean  answer,  "  No  hay."  After  much  growling 
and  an  extended  quarrel  with  her  son,  the  woman 
set  on  a  corner  of  a  wabbly-legged  table,  littered  with 
all  manner  of  unsavory  junk,  two  raw  eggs,  punc- 
tured and  warmed,  a  bowl  of  hot  water  and  a  stale 
slab  of  pan  dvlce,  a  cross  between  poor  bread  and 


UPS  AND  DOWNS  OF  HONDURAS      351 

worse  cake.  I  wandered  on  into  the  town  in  the 
hope  of  finding  some  imitation  of  a  hotel.  But 
though  the  place  had  a  population  of  several  thou- 
sand, it  was  made  up  exclusively  of  mud  huts  only 
two  or  three  of  which  were  faintly  lighted  by  pine- 
splinters.  The  central  plaza  was  a  barren,  im- 
lightcd  pasture,  a  hut  on  the  corner  of  which  was  re- 
puted to  be  a  shop,  but  when  I  had  beaten  my  way 
into  it  I  found  nothing  for  sale  except  bottles  of  an 
imitation  wine  at  monopoly  prices.  In  my  disgust 
I  pounded  my  way  into  every  hovel  that  was  said  to 
be  a  tienda.  Not  an  edible  thing  was  to  be  found. 
One  woman  claimed  to  have  fruit  for  sale,  and  after 
collecting  a  high  price  for  them  she  went  out  into 
the  patio  and  picked  a  half-dozen  perfectly  green 
oranges. 

"But  what  do  people  eat  and  drink  in  La  Paz? 
Grass  and  water?  "  I  demanded. 

But  the  bedraggled  population  was  not  even  amen- 
able to  crude  sarcasm,  and  the  only  reply  I  got  was 
a  lazy,  child-like: 

"  Oh,  each  one  keeps  what  he  needs  to  cat  in  his 
own  house." 

Here  was  a  town  of  a  size  to  have  been  a  place  of 
importance  in  other  lands,  yet  even  the  mayor  lived 
with  his  pigs  on  an  earth  floor.  Statistics  of  popu- 
lation have  little  meaning  in  Honduras.  The  place 
recalled  a  cynical  "  gringo's  "  description  of  a  sim- 
ilar  town,   "  It   has   a   hundred   men,   two   hundred 


352      TRAMPING  THROUGH  HONDURAS 

women,  and  100,000  chuchos  " —  the  generic  term  in 
Central  America  for  yellow  curs  of  all  colors.  Why 
every  family  houses  such  a  swarm  of  these  miserable 
beasts  is  hard  to  guess.  Mere  apathy,  no  doubt,  for 
they  are  never  fed ;  nor,  indeed,  are  the  pigs  that  also 
overrun  every  household  and  live,  like  the  dogs,  on 
the  oifal  of  the  patio  or  backyard  that  serves  as  place 
of  convenience.  They  have  at  least  the  doubtful 
virtue  of  partly  solving  the  sewer  problem,  which  is 
not  a  problem  to  Honduraneans.  A  tortilla  or  other 
food  held  carelessly  is  sure  to  be  snatched  by  some 
cat,  pig,  or  dog;  a  bundle  left  unwatched  for  a  mo- 
ment is  certain  to  be  rooted  about  the  floor  or  de- 
posited with  filth.  These  people  utterly  lack  any 
notion  of  improvement.  A  child  or  an  animal,  for 
instance,  climbs  upon  the  table  or  into  a  dish  of  food. 
When  the  point  is  reached  at  which  it  is  unavoidable, 
the  person  nearest  shouts,  throws  whatever  is  handy, 
or  kicks  at  the  offender;  but  though  the  same  iden- 
tical performance  is  repeated  a  score  of  times  during 
a  single  meal,  there  is  never  any  attempt  to  correct 
the  culprit,  to  drive  it  completely  off,  or  remove  the 
threatened  dish  from  the  danger  zone.  A  people  in- 
habiting a  land  that  might  be  a  garden  spot  of  the 
earth  drift  through  their  miserable  lives  in  identically 
the  same  fashion  as  their  gaunt  and  mangy  curs. 

There  was  a  great  gathering  of  the  neighboring 
cleans  in  the  Suaza  hut  next  morning,  while  my  com- 
panion of  the  day  before  enlarged  upon  what  he 


The  other  way  of  bringing  goods  up  to  the  capital 


The  garrison  of  Ainai)ala 


UPS  AND  DOWNS  OF  HONDURAS      355 

fancied  he  knew  about  his  distinguished  guest. 
Among  those  who  crowded  the  place  were  several  men 
of  education,  in  the  Honduranean  sense, —  about 
equal  to  that  of  a  poorly  trained  American  child  in 
the  fourth  grade.  But  there  was  not  one  of  them  that 
did  not  show  a  monkey  curiosity  and  irresponsibility 
in  handling  every  article  in  my  pack ;  my  sweater  — 
"  Ay  que  lindo  1 "  my  papers  — "  How  beautiful !  " 
an  extremely  ordinary  shirt  — "  How  soft  and  fine ! 
How  costly!"  and  "How  much  did  this  cost.?  — 
and  that.'*"  Suaza  displayed  my  medicine-case  to 
the  open-mouthed  throng  —  and  would  I  give  mother 
some  pills  for  her  colic,  and  would  I  please  photo- 
graph each  one  of  the  family  —  and  so  on  to  the  end 
of  patience.  There  was  no  mention  made  of  the 
wealthy  aunt  and  her  mansion  after  the  day  dawned. 
The  invitation  to  spend  a  few  days,  "  as  many  as  you 
like,"  amid  the  luxuries  of  Paris  and  the  Seven  Seas 
had  tapered  down  to  the  warmed  eggs  and  black 
coffee,  the  only  real  food  I  ate  being  that  I  had 
bought  in  a  house-to-house  canvass  in  the  morning. 
I  had  distributed  pills  to  most  of  the  family  and  sev- 
eral neighbors  and  photographed  them,  at  the  request 
of  the  man  of  many  promises,  had  paid  his  bills  on 
the  road  since  our  meeting;  while  I  prepared  my 
pack,  he  requested  me  to  send  him  six  prints  each  of 
the  pictures,  some  postals  of  New  York,  a  pair  of 
pajamas  such  as  I  carried,  "  and  any  other  little 
things  I  might  think  he  would  like,"  including  long 


356      TRAMPING  THROUGH  HONDURAS 

weekly  letters,  and  as  I  rose  to  take  my  leave  and 
asked  what  I  owed  him,  he  replied  with  a  bland  and 
magnanimous  smile: 

"  You  owe  me  nothing  whatever,  senor, —  only  to 
mama,"  and  dear  mama  collected  about  what  a  first- 
class  hotel  would  have  for  the  same  length  of  time. 


CHAPTER  X 

THE    CITY    OF    THE    SILVER    HILLS 

A  MONOTONOUS  wide  path  full  of  loose  stones 
led  through  dry,  breathless  jungle  across  the 
valley  floor  to  Comayagua.  The  former  capital  of 
the  republic  had  long  held  a  place  in  my  imagination, 
and  the  distant  view  of  it  the  day  before  from  the 
lofty  rim  of  the  valley  backed  by  long  blue  ranges 
of  mountains  had  enhanced  my  desire  to  visit  the 
place,  even  though  it  lay  somewhat  off  the  direct 
route.  But  romance  did  not  long  survive  my  en- 
trance. For  the  most  part  it  was  merely  a  larger 
collection  of  huts  along  badly  cobbled  or  grass- 
grown  streets  common  to  all  "  cities  "  of  Honduras. 
A  stub-towered,  white-washed  cathedral,  built  by  the 
Spaniards  and  still  the  main  religious  edifice  of  Hon- 
duras, faced  the  drowsy  plaza ;  near  it  were  a  few 
"  houses  of  commerce,"  one-story  plaster  buildings 
before  which  hung  a  sign  with  the  owner's  name  and 
possibly  some  hint  of  his  business,  generally  that  of 
hawking  a  few  bolts  of  cloth,  straw  hats,  or  ancient 
and  fly-specked  cheap  products  from  foreign  parts. 
The  town  boasted  a  place  that  openly  receives  trav- 
elers, but  its  two  canvas  cots  and  its  rafters  were  al- 

357 


358      TRAMPING  THROUGH  HONDURAS 

ready  occupied  by  several  snobbish  and  gawkily 
dressed  young  natives  bound  from  the  north  coast 
to  the  capital. 

The  chief  of  telegraphs  finally  led  me  to  the  new 
billard-hall,  where  a  lawyer  in  a  frock  coat  and  the 
manners  of  a  prime  minister  admitted  he  had  an 
empty  shop  in  which  I  could  swing  my  hammock. 
When  he  had  finished  his  game,  he  got  a  massive  key 
and  a  candle  and  led  the  way  in  person  to  a  small 
hut  in  a  side  street,  the  rafters  uncomfortably  liigh 
above  the  tile  floor,  on  which  I  was  fortunate  to  have 
a  newspaper  to  spread  before  depositing  my  bundle. 
The  lawyer  took  leave  of  me  with  the  customary 
"  At  your  orders ;  here  you  are  in  your  own  house," 
and  marched  ministerially  away  with  the  several 
pompous  friends  who  had  accompanied  him.  But  a 
few  moments  later,  having  shaken  them  off,  he  re- 
turned to  collect  ten  cents  —  one  real  for  rent  and 
another  for  the  candle.  It  was  the  first  lodging  I 
had  paid  since  leaving  Guatemala  City.  As  I 
doubled  up  in  my  ill-hung  hammock,  the  dull  thump 
of  a  distant  guitar  and  the  explosion  of  a  rare  fire- 
cracker broke  the  stillness  of  New  Year's  eve,  while 
now  and  then  there  drifted  to  my  ears  the  sound  of 
a  band  in  the  main  plaza  that  tortured  the  night 
at  intervals  into  the  small  hours. 

Comayagua  by  day  was  a  lazy,  silent  place,  chiefly 
barefoot,  the  few  possessors  of  shoes  being  gaudily 
dressed  young  men  whose  homes  were  earth-floored 


^■^: 


Marooned  "gringoes"  waiting  with  what  patience  possible  at  the 
"Hotel  Morazan,"  Amapala 


I  iiloadiiin  cattle  in  the  liarlxir  of  Aiiiajtala 


THE  CITY  OF  THE  SILVER  HILLS      361 

huts.  The  place  had  the  familiar  Central-American 
air  of  trying  to  live  with  the  least  possible  exertion ; 
its  people  were  a  mongrel  breed  running  all  the  gamut 
from  black  to  near-white.  There  were  none  of  the 
fine  physical  specimens  common  to  the  highlands  of 
Mexico,  and  the  teeth  were  notably  bad.  A  few  of 
the  soldiers,  in  blue-jean  uniforms  with  what  had 
once  been  white  stripes,  faded  straw  hats,  and  bare 
feet,  were  mountain  Indians  with  well-developed 
chests ;  for  military  service  —  of  the  catch-them-with- 
a-rope  variety  —  is  compulsory  in  Honduras.  But 
the  population  in  general  was  anemic  and  stunted. 
Two  prisoners  were  at  work  in  the  streets ;  more 
properly  they  sat  smoking  cigarettes  and  putting  a 
finger  cautiously  to  their  lips  when  I  passed  in  silent 
request  not  to  wake  up  their  guard,  who  was  sound 
asleep  on  his  back  in  the  shade,  his  musket  lying 
across  his  chest.  The  town  had  one  policeman,  a 
kinky-haired  youth  in  a  white  cap  and  a  pale  light 
gray  cotton  uniform,  who  carried  a  black  club  and 
wore  shoes !  The  cartero,  or  mailman,  was  a  bare- 
foot boy  in  faded  khaki  and  an  ancient  straw  hat, 
who  wandered  lazily  and  apparently  aimlessly  about 
town  with  the  week's  correspondence  in  hand,  read- 
ing the  postals  and  feeling  the  contents  of  each  letter 
with  a  proprietary  air.  The  sun  was  brilliant  and 
hot  here  in  the  valley,  and  there  was  an  aridity  that 
had  not  been  suggested  in  the  view  of  it  from  the 
heights  above. 


362      TRAMPING  THROUGH  HONDURAS 

It  was  no  place  to  spend  New  Year's,  however,  stiff 
and  sore  though  I  was  from  the  hardships  of  the 
road,  and  toward  lazy,  silent  noonday  I  wandered 
on  along  the  trail  to  the  modern  capital,  hoping 
that  it,  at  least,  might  have  real  beds  and  a  hotel,  and 
perhaps  even  white  inhabitants.  The  battered  old 
church  bells  were  thumping  as  I  topped  the  slight 
rise  that  hid  the  town  from  view,  and  it  was  four 
hours  later  that  I  saw  or  heard  the  next  human 
being,  or  any  other  evidence  of  his  existence  except 
a  stretch  of  barb-wire  and  one  lone  telegraph  wire 
sagging  from  one  crooked  stick  to  another.  The 
four  stony  dry  but  flat  leagues  along  the  valley 
floor  had  brought  me  to  San  Antonio,  all  the  popula- 
tion of  which  was  loafing  and  mildly  celebrating  New 
Year's,  as  they  would  celebrate  any  other  possible 
excuse  not  to  work.  Here  I  obtained  water,  and 
new  directions  that  led  me  off  more  toward  the  east 
and  the  heaped-up  mountains  that  lay  between  me 
and  Tegucigalpa.  On  all  sides  spread  a  dry,  bushy 
land,  aching  for  cultivation.  I  had  the  good  fortune 
to  fall  in  with  a  river  so  large  I  was  able  to  swim 
three  strokes  in  one  of  its  pools,  and  strolled  with 
dusk  into  the  town  of  Flores  on  the  edge  of  the  first 
foothills  of  the  ranges  still  to  be  surmounted. 

Though  still  a  lazy  naked  village,  this  one  showed 
some  hint  of  the  far-off  approach  of  civilization. 
Animals  were  forbidden  the  house  in  which  I  passed 
the  night,  and  its  tile-floor  was  almost  clean.     This 


THE  CITY  OF  THE  SILVER  HILLS      363 

latter  virtue  was  doubly  pleasing,  for  the  rafters 
above  were  so  high  that  even  when  I  had  tied  my 
hammock  by  the  very  ends  of  the  ropes  I  could 
only  climb  in  by  mounting  a  chair  and  swinging 
myself  up  as  into  a  trapeze;  and  if  I  must  break  a 
leg  it  would  be  some  slight  compensation  to  do  so  on 
a  clean  floor.  How  much  uncleanliness  this  simple 
little  30-cent  net  had  kept  me  up  out  of  since  the 
day  I  bought  it  in  Guatemala  City ! 

Like  many  of  the  tasks  of  life,  this  one  grew  easier 
toward  its  termination.  A  moderate  day's  walk,  not 
without  rocky  climbs  and  bajadas,  but  with  consider- 
able stretches  of  almost  level  going  across  solitary 
wind-cooled  plains,  brought  me  to  Tamara.  A  pass- 
ing company  of  soldiers  had  all  but  gutted  the  vil- 
lage larder,  but  at  dusk  in  the  last  hut  I  got  not 
only  food  but  meat,  and  permission  to  swing  my  ham- 
mock from  the  blackened  rafters  of  the  reed  kitchen, 
over  the  open  pots  and  pans.  Incidentally,  for  the 
first  time  in  Honduras  prices  were  quadrupled  in 
honor  of  my  being  a  foreigner.  Civilization  indeed 
was  approaching. 

Half  way  up  the  wooded  ridge  beyond  I  met  the  sun 
mounting  from  the  other  side,  fell  in  soon  after  with  a 
real  highway,  and  at  eleven  caught  the  first  sight 
of  Tegucigalpa,  the  "  City  of  the  Silver  Hills,"  capi- 
tal of  the  Sovereign  and  Independent  Republic  of 
Honduras.  It  was  no  very  astounding  sight ;  merely 
what  in  other  lands  would  have  been  considered  a 


S64,      TRAMPING  THROUGH  HONDURAS 

large  village,  a  chiefly  one-story  place  with  a  white- 
washed church,  filling  only  a  small  proportion  of  a 
somewhat  barren  valley  surrounded  by  high  rocky 
and  partly  wooded  hills.  I  marched  down  through 
Comayagiiela  in  all  the  disreputableness  of  fifteen 
days  on  the  trail,  across  the  little  bridge  of  a  few 
arches  over  a  shallow  river  which  to  Honduraneans 
far  and  wide  is  one  of  the  greatest  works  of  man,  and 
into  the  park-like  little  central  plaza,  with  its  arbor 
of  huge  purple  bourgainvillea. 

The  "  Hotel  Jockey  Club  "  was  not  all  that  the 
imagination  might  have  pictured,  but  at  least  there 
was  the  satisfaction  of  knowing  that  any  stranger 
in  town,  be  he  "gringo  "  or  president-elect,  famous 
or  infamous,  rich  or  honest,  could  stop  nowhere  else. 
Among  its  luxuries  was  a  "  bath,"  which  turned  out 
to  be  a  massive  stone  vessel  in  the  basement  with  a 
drizzle  of  cold  water  from  a  faucet  above  that  was 
sure  to  run  dry  about  the  time  the  victim  was  well 
soaped;  its  frontiersman  rooms  were  furnished  with 
little  more  than  weak-kneed  canvas  cots,  and  the  bare- 
foot service  of  the  dining-room  was  assisted  by  all 
the  dogs,  fowls,  and  flies  of  the  region.  But  there 
lay  two  hungry  weeks  of  Central  American  trail 
behind  me  and  for  days  to  come  I  ate  unquestioningly 
anything  that  came  within  reach  of  my  fingers,  of 
whatever  race,  color,  or  previous  condition  of  servi- 
tude. 

Just  around  the  corner  —  as  everything  is  in  this 


THE  CITY  OF  THE  SILVER  HILLS      365 

miniature  capital  —  the  American  Legation  delivered 
the  accumulated  mail  of  a  month,  and  the  pair  of  real 
shoes  I  had  had  the  happy  thought  of  sending  to  my- 
self here  months  before.  This  bit  of  foresight  saved 
me  from  hobbling  on  to  the  coast  barefoot.  I  had 
arrived  just  in  time  to  attend  one  of  Tegucigalpa's 
gala  events,  the  inspection  of  her  newly  reformed 
police  force.  "  It  is  set  for  three,"  said  the  legation 
secretary,  "  so  come  around  about  three-thirty." 
Just  around  another  corner  we  entered  toward  four 
the  large  dusty  patio  of  a  one-story  building  of  mud 
blocks,  against  the  adobe  wall  of  which  were  lined 
up  something  over  a  hundred  half-frightened,  half- 
proud  Honduranean  Indians  in  brand  new,  dark-blue 
uniforms  and  caps,  made  in  Germany,  and  armed  with 
black  night-sticks  and  large  revolvers  half-hidden  in 
immense  holsters.  We  took  the  places  of  honor  re- 
served for  us  at  a  bench  and  table  under  the  patio 
veranda  beside  the  chief  of  police,  an  American 
soldier  of  fortune  named  Lee  Christmas.  He  was  a 
man  nearing  fifty,  totally  devoid  of  all  the  embroidery 
of  life,  golden  toothed  and  graying  at  the  temples, 
but  still  hardy  and  of  youthful  vigor,  of  the  dress 
and  manner  of  a  well-paid  American  mechanic,  who 
sat  chewing  his  black  cigar  as  complacently  as  if  he 
were  still  at  his  throttle  on  the  railroad  of  Guatemala. 
Following  the  latest  revolution  he  had  reorganized 
what,  to  use  his  own  words,  had  been  "  a  bunch  of 
barefooted  apes  in  faded-blue  cotton  rags  "  into  the 


366      TRAMPING  THROUGH  HONDURAS 

solemn  military  company  that  was  now  to  suffer  its 
first  formal  inspection.  The  native  secretary,  stand- 
ing a  bit  tremulously  in  the  edge  of  the  shade,  called 
from  the  list  in  his  hand  first  the  name  of  Christmas 
himself,  then  that  of  the  first  assistant,  and  his  own, 
he  himself  answering  "  present  "  for  each  of  these. 
Next  were  the  commanders,  clerks,  under-secretarics, 
and  the  like  in  civilian  garb,  each,  as  his  name  was 
pronounced,  marching  past  us  hat  in  hand  and  bow- 
ing profoundly.  Last  came  the  policemen  in  uni- 
form. As  the  secretary  read  his  title  and  first  name, 
each  self-conscious  Indian  stepped  stiffly  forth  from 
the  ranks,  throwing  a  foot,  heavy  with  the  unac- 
customed shoe,  high  in  the  air  and  pounding  the  earth 
in  the  new  military  style  taught  him  by  a  willowy 
young  native  in  civilian  dress  who  leaned  haughtily 
on  his  cane  watching  every  movement,  made  a  sharp- 
cornered  journey  about  the  sun-flooded  yard  and 
bringing  up  more  or  less  in  front  of  his  dreaded 
chief,  gave  a  half  turn,  raised  the  right  leg  to  the 
horizontal  with  the  grace  of  an  aged  ballet  dancer 
long  since  the  victim  of  rheumatism,  brought  it  down 
against  the  left  like  the  closing  of  a  heavy  trap- 
door, saluted  with  his  night-stick  and  huskily  called 
out  his  own  last  name,  which  Christmas  checked  off 
on  the  list  before  him  without  breaking  the  thread  of 
the  particular  anecdote  with  which  he  chanced  at 
that  moment  to  be  entertaining  us. 

"  I  tried  to  get  'em  to  cut  out  this  — — • Ger- 


THE  CITY  OF  THE  SILVER  HILLS      367 

man  monkey  business  of  throwing  their  feet  around," 
confided  the  chief  sadly,  "  but  it 's  no  use,  for  it 's 
in  the military  manual." 

Judged  by  Central-American  standards  the  force 
was  well  trained.  But  the  poor  Indians  and  half- 
breeds  that  made  up  its  bulk  were  so  overwhelmed 
with  the  solenmity  of  the  extraordinary  occasion  that 
they  were  even  more  ox-like  in  their  clumsiness  and 
nearer  frightened  apes  in  demeanor  than  in  their 
native  jungles.  The  quaking  fear  of  making  a  mis- 
step caused  them  to  keep  their  eyes  riveted  on  the 
lips  of  our  compatriot,  from  which,  instead  of  the 
words  of  wrath  they  no  doubt  often  imagined,  issued 
some  such  remark  as: 

"  Why it,  W ,  one  of  the  bums  I 

picked  up  along  the  line  one  day  in  Guatemala  told 
me  the  best yarn  that  — " 

Nor  could  they  guess  that  the  final  verdict  on  the 
great  ceremony  that  rang  forth  on  the  awe-struck 
silence  as  the  chief  rose  to  his  feet  was : 

"  Well,  drop  around  to  my  room  in  the  hotel  when 
you  want  to  hear  the  rest  of  it.  But  if  you  see  the 
sign  on  my  door,  '  Ladles  Onlj^  To-day,'  don't  knock. 
The  chambermaid  may  not  have  finished  her  official 
visit." 

The  climate  of  Tegucigalpa  leaves  little  to  be  de- 
sired. Otherwise  it  is  merely  a  large  Central-Ameri- 
can village  of  a  few  thousand  inhabitants,  with  much 
of  the  indifference,  uncleanliness,  and  ignorance  of 


368      TRAMPING  THROUGH  HONDURAS 

the  rest  of  the  republic.  Priests  are  numerous, 
wandering  about  smoking  their  cigarettes  and  pro- 
tected from  the  not  particularly  hot  sun  by  broad 
hats  and  umbrellas.  One  lonely  little  native  sheet 
masquerades  as  a  newspaper,  the  languid  little  shops, 
often  owned  by  foreigners,  offer  a  meager  and 
ancient  stock  chiefly  imported  and  all  high  in  price ; 
for  it  takes  great  inducement  to  make  the  natives 
produce  anything  beyond  the  corn  and  beans  for 
their  own  requirements.  The  "  national  palace  "  is 
a  green,  clap-boarded  building,  housing  not  only  the 
president  and  his  little  reception-room  solemn  with 
a  dozen  chairs  in  cotton  shrouds,  but  congress,  the 
ministry,  and  the  "West  Point  of  Honduras,"  the 
superintendent  of  which  was  a  native  youth  who  had 
spent  a  year  or  two  at  Chapultepec.  Against  it 
lean  barefooted,  anemic  "  soldiers  "  in  misfit  overalls, 
armed  with  musket  and  bayonet  that  overtop  them 
in  height.  The  main  post-office  of  the  republic  is 
an  ancient  adobe  hovel,  in  the  cobwebbed  recesses  of 
which  squat  a  few  stupid  fellows  waiting  for  the 
mule-back  mail-train  to  arrive  that  they  may  lock 
up  in  preparation  for  beginning  to  look  over  the  cor- 
respondence manana.  It  is  not  the  custom  to  make 
appointments  in  Tegucigalpa.  If  one  resident  de- 
sires the  presence  of  another  at  dinner,  or  some  less 
excusable  function,  he  wanders  out  just  before  the 
hour  set  until  he  picks  up  his  guest  somewhere.  By 
night  the  town  is  doubly  dead.     The  shops  put  up 


THE  CITY  OF  THE  SILVER  HILLS      369 

their  wooden  shutters  at  dusk,  the  more  energetic 
inhabitants  wander  a  while  about  the  cobbled  streets, 
dim-lighted  here  and  there  by  arc-lights,  the  cathe- 
dral bells  jangle  at  intervals  like  suspended  pieces  of 
scrap-iron,  arousing  a  chorus  of  barking  dogs,  and  a 
night  in  which  two  blankets  are  comfortable  settles 
down  over  all  the  mountainous,  moon-flooded  region. 
There  is  not  even  the  imitation  of  a  theater,  the  plaza 
concert  on  Sunday  evenings,  in  which  the  two  sexes 
wander  past  each  other  in  opposite  directions  for 
an  hour  or  two,  being  the  only  fixed  recreation.  A 
man  of  infinite  patience,  or  who  had  grown  old  and 
weary  of  doing,  might  find  Tegucigalpa  agreeable; 
but  it  would  soon  pall  on  the  man  still  imbued  with 
living  desires. 

The  fitting  shield  of  Honduras  would  be  one  bear- 
ing as  motto  that  monotonous  phrase  which  greets 
the  traveler  most  frequently  along  her  trails,  "  No 
hay."  The  country  is  noted  chiefly  for  what  "  there 
is  not."  Everywhere  one  has  the  impression  of 
watching  peculiarly  stupid  children  playing  at  be- 
ing a  republic.  The  nation  is  a  large  farm  in  size 
and  a  poorly  run  one  in  condition.  The  wave  of 
"  liberty  "  that  swept  over  a  large  part  of  the  world 
after  the  French  Revolution  left  these  wayward  and 
not  over-bright  inhabitants  of  what  might  be  a  rich 
and  fertile  land  to  play  at  governing  themselves,  to 
ape  the  forms  of  real  republics,  and  mix  thorn  with 
such   childish   clauses   as   come  into   their   infantile 


370      TRAMPING  THROUGH  HONDURAS 

minds.  The  chief  newspaper  of  the  republic  resem- 
bles a  high-school  periodical,  concocted  by  particu- 
larly thick-headed  students  without  faculty  assistance 
or  editing.  A  history  of  their  childish  governmental 
activities  would  fill  volumes.  In  1910  all  the  copper 
one-centavo  coins  wore  called  in  and  crudely  changed 
to  two-centavo  pieces  by  surcharging  the  figure  2  and 
adding  an  s,  a  much  smaller  one-centavo  coin  being 
issued.  The  "  government  "  may  have  made  as  much 
as  $50  by  the  transaction.  Not  long  before  my  ar- 
rival, the  current  postage-stamps,  large  quantities  of 
which  had  been  bought  by  foreign  firms  within  the 
country,  were  suddenly  declared  worthless,  and  the 
entire  accumulated  correspondence  for  the  next 
steamer  returned  to  the  senders,  instead  of  at  least 
being  forwarded  to  destination  under  excess  charges. 
Foreigners  established  the  first  factor}^  Tegucigalpa 
had  ever  known,  which  was  already  employing  a  half- 
hundred  of  the  pauperous  inhabitants  in  the  making 
of  candles,  when  the  "  government "  suddenly  not 
only  put  a  heavy  duty  on  stearine  but  required  the 
payment  of  back  duty  on  all  that  had  already  been 
imported.  An  Englishman  came  down  from  the 
mines  of  San  Juancito  embucd  with  the  desire  to 
start  a  manual-training  school  in  the  capital.  He 
called  on  the  mulatto  president  and  offered  his  serv- 
ices free  for  a  ^ear,  if  the  government  would  invest 
$5000  in  equipment.  The  president  told  him  to  come 
back  maiiana.     On  that  elusive  day  he  was  informed 


THE  CITY  OF  THE  SILVER  HILLS      371 

that  the  government  had  no  such  sum  at  its  dis- 
posal. 

"  I  have  saved  up  $2500  myself,"  replied  the  Eng- 
lishman, "  which  I  will  lend  the  government  for  the 
purpose,  if  it  will  add  a  like  amount." 

But  when  manana  came  again,  the  president  ex- 
pressed his  regrets  that  the  national  treasury  could 
not  endure  such  a  strain. 

The  best  view  of  Tegucigalpa  is  had  from  Picacho, 
a  long  ridge  from  back  in  the  mountains,  ending  in  a 
blunt  nose  almost  sheer  above  the  city.  Whoever 
climbs  it  recognises  the  reason  for  the  native  saying, 
"  He  who  holds  Picacho  sleeps  in  the  palace."  Its 
town-side  face  is  almost  precipitous,  and  on  every 
hand  spread  rolling,  half-bare  upland  mountains. 
All  but  sheer  below,  in  the  lowest  depression  of  the 
visible  woi'ld,  sits  the  little  capital,  rather  compact  in 
the  center,  then  scattered  along  the  little  river  and 
in  the  suburb  of  Comayaglicla  beyond  it.  The  dull- 
red  tile  roofs  predominate,  and  the  city  is  so  directly 
below  that  one  can  see  almost  to  the  bottom  of  every 
tree-grown  patio.  A  few  buildings  are  of  two  stories, 
and  the  twin-towers  of  the  little  white  cathedral 
stand  somewhat  above  the  general  level.  But  most 
noticeable  of  any  is  the  fact  that  all  the  vast  broken 
plain  surrounding  it  far  and  wide  lies  almost  entirely 
uncultivated,  for  the  most  part  neither  cleared  nor 
inhabited,  crossed  by  several  roads  and  trails,  most 
conspicuous  of  all  the  two  white  ribbons  by  one  of 


372      TRAMPING  THROUGH  HONDURAS 

which  I  had  arrived  from  the  north  and  the  other  of 
which  was  already  inviting  me  onward  to  the  coast 
and  new  climes. 

A  fellow-gringo,  bound  for  the  Pacific  exit  on  a 
miniature  horse,  packed  away  my  baggage  on  his 
cargo  mule  and  left  me  to  walk  unhampered.  A 
highway  some  fifty  feet  wide  and  white  with  dust 
struck  off  uncertainly  toward  the  southwest,  a  splen- 
did highway  once,  built  for  automobiles  by  the  com- 
bined efforts  of  the  government  and  an  American 
mining  company  farther  up  in  the  hills,  but  now  suf- 
fered to  fall  here  and  there  into  a  disrepair  that  made 
it  as  useless  for  such  traffic  as  a  mountain  trail. 
The  first  day  of  thirty  miles  brought  us  to  Sabana 
Grande,  with  a  species  of  hotel.  During  the  second, 
there  were  many  down-grade  short-cuts,  full  of  loose 
stones  and  dusty  dry  under  the  ever  warmer  sun, 
with  the  most  considerable  bridge  in  Honduras  over 
the  Pasoreal  River,  and  not  a  few  stiff  climbs  to  make 
footsore  my  entrance  into  the  village  of  Pcspire. 
Here  was  a  house  that  frankly  and  openly  displayed 
the  sign  "  Restaurante,"  in  a  corner  of  which  travel- 
ers of  persuasive  manners  might  be  furnished  tijeras, 
sissor-legged  canvas  cots  on  which  to  toss  out  the 
night;  for  Pespire  is  far  below  Tegucigalpa  and  on 
the  edge  of  the  blazing  tropics. 

For  which  reason  we  rose  at  three  to  finish  the  half- 
day  of  sea-level  country  left  us.  The  stars  hung 
brilliant  and  a  half  moon  lighted  up  a  way  that  was 


The  steamer  arrives  at  last  that  is  to  carrv  us  south  to  Panama 


We  lose  no  time  in  being  rowed  out  to  her 


THE  CITY  OF  THE  SILVER  HILLS      375 

hot  even  at  this  hour.  From  sunrise  on  huge  lizards 
scurried  up  among  the  wayside  rocks  as  we  passed, 
and  sat  torpid,  staring  at  us  with  their  lack-luster 
eyes.  Natives  wearing  spurs  on  their  hoof-like  bare 
feet  rode  by  us  now  and  then,  and  mule-trains  or 
screaming  wooden  carts  crawled  past  on  their  way 
up  to  the  capital.  All  traffic  between  Tegucigalpa 
and  the  outside  world  passes  either  over  this  route 
or  the  still  longer  trail  from  Puerto  Cortez,  on  the 
north  coast,  from  which  a  toy  railroad  limps  a  few 
miles  inland  before  losing  its  courage  and  turning 
back.  By  daylight  the  fantastic  ranges  of  the  in- 
terior had  disappeared  and  the  last  low  foothill  soon 
left  us  to  plod  on  straight  across  a  dust-dry  sandy 
plain  with  brown  withered  grass  and  mesquite  bushes, 
among  which  panted  scores  of  cattle.  Honduras 
runs  so  nearly  down  to  a  point  on  its  Pacific  side 
that  the  mountains  of  both  Salvador  and  Nicaragua 
stood  out  plainly  to  the  right  and  left. 

By  sweltering  ten  we  were  swimming  in  the  Pacific 
before  the  scattered  village  of  San  Lorenzo,  though 
there  was  visible  only  a  little  arm  of  the  sea  shut  in 
by  low  bushy  islands.  It  was  our  good  fortune  not 
to  have  to  charter  by  telegraph  and  at  the  expense 
of  a  Honduranean  fortune  means  of  transportation 
to  the  island  port  of  Amapala ;  for  before  we  could 
seek  the  shelter  of  our  sun-faded  garments  a  launch 
put  in  for  a  party  that  had  been  forming  for  several 
days  past.     The  passengers  included  a  shifty-eyed 


376      TRAMPING  THROUGH  HONDURAS 

old  priest  in  charge  of  two  nuns,  the  rules  of  whose 
order  forbade  them  to  speak  to  men,  and  the  mozo 
of  an  influential  Honduranean  who  had  shot  a  man 
the  night  before  and  was  taking  advantage  of  his 
master's  personal  friendship  with  the  judge  of  the 
district.  The  launch  wound  between  bushy  banks 
and  came  out  at  last  on  a  rich-blue  bay  shut  oiF  in 
the  far  distance  by  several  jagged  black  volcanic 
islands,  toward  one  of  which  it  wheezed  a  hot  and 
monotonous  three  hours.  This  was  "  Tiger's  Is- 
land," named  evidently  from  the  one  moth-eaten 
specimen  that  had  once  been  landed  here  by  a  passing 
circus.  At  a  narrow  wooden  wharf  of  this  we  at 
length  gradually  tied  up.  Ragged,  barefoot  soldiers 
stopped  us  to  write  our  pedigrees,  as  if  we  were  en- 
tering some  new  countrj'^,  and  addressed  us  in  monkey 
signs  instead  of  the  Spanish  of  which  experience  had 
convinced  them  all  traveling  foreigners  were  ignor- 
ant. 

Amapala  is  a  species  of  outdoor  prison  to  which 
all  travelers  to  or  from  Honduras  on  the  Pacific  side 
are  sentenced  for  a  term  varying  in  length  according 
to  their  luck,  which  is  generally  bad.  Those  who  do 
not  sleep  in  the  park  toss  out  their  imprisonment  on 
a  bedstead  of  woven  ropes  in  a  truly  Honduranean 
building  that  disguises  itself  under  the  name  of 
"  Hotel  Morazan,"  the  slatternly  keeper  of  which 
treats  her  helpless  inmates  with  the  same  considera- 
tion as  any  other  prison  warden  devoid  of  humanity 


THE  CITY  OF  THE  SILVER  HILLS      377 

or  oversight.  The  steamer  I  awaited  was  due  before 
I  arrived,  but  day  after  day  I  lay  marooned  on  the 
blazing  volcanic  rock  without  a  hint  as  to  its  where- 
abouts. Not  even  exercise  was  possible,  unless  one 
cared  to  race  up  and  down  the  sharp  jagged  sides 
of  the  sea-girt  volcano.  The  place  ranks  high  as  an 
incubator  of  malignant  fevers  and  worse  ailments, 
and  to  cap  the  climax  the  ice-machine  was  broken 
down.  It  alwaj's  is,  if  the  testimony  of  generations 
of  castaways  is  to  be  given  credence.  Our  only 
available  pastime  was  to  buy  a  soap-boxful  of 
oysters,  at  the  cost  of  a  quarter,  and  sit  in  the  nar- 
row strip  of  shade  before  the  "  hotel "  languidly 
opening  them  with  the  only  available  corkscrew,  our 
weary  gaze  fixed  on  the  blue  arm  of  water  framed  by 
the  shimmering  hot  hills  of  Salvador  by  which  tra- 
dition had  it  ocean  craft  sometimes  came  to  the 
rescue. 

But  all  things  have  an  end,  even  life  imprisonment, 
and  with  the  middle  of  January  we  awoke  one  morn- 
ing to  find  a  steamer  anchored  in  the  foreground  of 
the  picture  that  had  seared  itself  into  our  memories. 
All  day  long  half-naked  natives  waded  lazily  back 
and  forth  from  the  beach  to  the  clumsy  tenders,  ex- 
changing the  meager  products  of  the  country  for  ill- 
packed  merchandise  from  my  own.  Night  settled 
down  over  their  unfinished  task,  the  self-same  moon 
came  out  and  the  wovcn-rope  cots  again  creaked  and 
groaned  under  unwilling  guests.     But  by  noon  next 


^78   TRAMPING  THROUGH  HONDURAS 

day  we  had  swung  our  hammocks  under  the  awning 
of  the  forecastlehead  and  were  off  along  the  tropical 
blue  Pacific  for  Panama. 


THE    END 


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